


No Milk Today

by Lyowyn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M, Slash, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2017-02-22
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:07:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 74,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671221
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lyowyn/pseuds/Lyowyn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A 9 year old Severus Snape meets an old man who might just be able to change his destiny and set him on the path to redemption. Harry Potter has an interesting conversation with a dead man's portrait. Story spanning Severus' Hogwarts years with frequent jumps to post-war Hogwarts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter One

Summer

-1969-

The old man's garden was a favorite for all the children of the neighborhood, and Severus was no exception. He was nine, but he was smart for his age, and he knew something that none of the other children in the village knew: the man was a wizard.

Severus stood back from the other children as the man took fresh apples from his tree to give to each one. He was telling a story about a dragon. The old man was always telling stories like that. The stupid muggles all thought that they were fairy tales of course, but Severus knew better. Severus knew that they were true- even if there hadn't been a Norwegian Ridgeback in Britain in over half a century.

He hung back still as the man finished his story and the other children left, laughing and joking with each other. It wasn't until all the other children had gone that the man finally turned to look at the sullen greasy-haired boy in the baggy second-hand clothes.

"Didn't you want your apple, young master Snape?" He asked, reaching a gnarled old hand up to pluck another from the tree. "You really should try one. They're quite good this time of year."

Severus reluctantly left the garden fence and walked over to take the apple. He took a bite with his crooked teeth, chewed and swallowed, and finally said what he'd been wanting to say every day since he had come to the garden the first time a few weeks ago- trailing unseen behind the other village children.

"I know you're a wizard."

The old man's reaction to the accusation wasn't the one Severus' had been expecting. He shrugged it off. "They're just stories I tell, master Snape. They aren't true- just stories that I make up to entertain the children." The man spoke to him like he was explaining to a small child that there was no such thing as Father Christmas. Severus wasn't swayed.

"They might not all be true," Severus said, "but I know you're a wizard anyway."

The man regarded him seriously, but there was something in the way that his eyes sparkled within the deep folds and wrinkles of the man's face that made Severus think that he was really amused.

"And what," the man asks, "has so firmly set such a silly notion to work in your mind, might I ask?"

This is what Severus had been hoping for, and he brightened. He always liked to show adults how clever he was. "This," he said, pointing to a purple flower near the fence. "This is aconite."

"Very good," the man praised, still not looking convinced.

"And that over there," he pointed to a blood-red flower near the cobblestone path leading up to the old man's cottage. "That's flowering dragon lotus."

"Correct again."

"Mugwort and wormwood over there," he pointed to one of the shadows near the garden shed. "And  _asphodel_." His eyes widened in excitement. "Asphodel right out where anyone can see it."

The old man smiled. "I'm impressed with your knowledge of botany, master Snape, but I fail to see what it has to do with why you seem to think I'm some kind of magician."

Severus scowled. Even at this age, he was quite good at it. "Not a magician," he spat the word out with disgust, "a wizard. And it isn't botany either; it's herbology. And I  _know_ you're a wizard, because no muggle would plant wormwood and asphodel in their back garden."

"Maybe I just like the way they look."

"Or maybe," Snape said mockingly, "you're going to chop them up into potion ingredients and brew the  _draught of living death_."

The man smiled. "I have half a mind to chop  _you_  up into potion ingredients, you precocious little brat."

Severus was pretty sure the man was joking.

The old man chuckled at the look of near terror on Severus' face. "Well, come along," he said, gesturing to the door of his little cottage. "You'd better come inside and have a cup of tea while I read you the Statute of Secrecy."

The boy followed him into the cottage with hardly a second thought, and looked around with deep interest.

This definitely wasn't the house of a muggle. Growing up in a household where magic was almost scorned, Severus thought he had never seen anything as blatantly magical as the old man's home.

A broomstick sat on a small worktable at one end of the kitchen, though the old man hardly looked capable of riding it. The rest of the table was covered with miscellaneous Quidditch gear, and a broken snitch lay in pieces on a black cloth. There were spell books and robes littered around haphazardly, and a small cauldron hung on a hook near the fireplace.

"Your mother is Eileen Prince, is she not?" the old man asked. "You have her look about you."

Severus, who had never been told that he resembled anyone but his father, only nodded, not taking his eyes from the potion ingredients hung to dry from the rafters in the kitchen.

"I'll just floo her to come collect you then," the old man said, starting toward the hearth.

"We aren't on the network," Severus quickly answered. "My father is a muggle, and he doesn't really approve of magic."

The old man raised one shaggy grey eyebrow at this, but made no comment. "Is your father home this afternoon?"

Severus shook his head.

"Wonderful." The old man took his wand from somewhere within the folds of his rough spun work shirt, and something ghostly-white erupted from the tip.

It capered around the enclosed space of the cottage's main room and when it turned to face its master, Severus saw that it was a large antlered deer.

"Miss Eileen Snape, you may come to fetch your son at your leisure. I think you know where you'll find him," he spoke to the animal, and it disappeared.

"What spell was that?" Severus asked when the hart had gone.

"It's called a patronus," the old man answered.

Severus' eyes widened. "I thought they were for fighting off dementors."

"Primarily, though they have a few other uses- including a means of sending a message to your mother without leaving some evidence to get her into trouble with your father."

"Can you teach me?"

"Perhaps one day, when you've earned your wand." The old man moved to the kitchen and set the kettle on the stove. "We'll just have a cup of tea while we wait for your mother. I have no doubt she'll be along shortly," he said as he returned to the sitting room.

"Are you a Potion Master?" Severus asked, touching the edge of the cauldron in the corner. "You must be if you have asphodel. It's only used for the draught of living death, and you'd have to be a Potion Master to be able to brew that."

The man shook his head. "Unfortunately, I do not have that particular title, though I did take my N.E.W.T. levels in Potions. I did fairly well too; I had a good teacher. But no, I am not a Potion Master, I didn't plant the asphodel, it was there when I moved in, and no decent wizard would brew the draught of living death in any case."

"Oh," Severus seemed disappointed with this answer. "So what do you do then?"

"I tend my garden and tell the children stories to entertain them."

"Well, yeah, but you're a wizard. What do you really do?"

"I'm retired."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Before that."

"Before that?" the man considered his answer for a long time. "I suppose you could say that I was involved in Defense Against the Dark Arts."

"Like an Auror?"

"No, master Snape, not at all like an Auror," the man snapped. "I have neither the time nor the patience to deal with the  _Ministry of Magic_."

"A teacher then?" Severus asked.

"I have taught before, yes."

Severus' heart soared at this- imaginings of castles full of books, and magic, and adventure.

"Will you teach me something?" the boy asked. "My mother lets me help her with her brewing sometimes, when father is away."

The old man made a thoughtful noise. "Has your magical ability manifested itself already then?"

"Manifested?" Severus asked, turning the unfamiliar word over in his mouth.

"Yes, manifested, Mr. Snape. In this case, it means to make its presence known through a physical demonstration- to appear, as it were. Have you done some magic accidentally when you were in a heightened emotional state? When you were upset or angry or worried? When you were happy? Most witches and wizards show their magical ability around eight or nine. This is why they start Hogwarts at the age of eleven."

"Oh yes," Severus nodded. "I can do other things too. When I'm trying, I mean, if I concentrate."

"What sorts of things?"

Severus shrugged. "Move objects from one end of the room to the other, light candles, little things like that."

"Interesting." The man nodded. He looked the boy over appraisingly. "Perhaps I may have some use for you, after all."

There was a knock on the door then, and the old man answered it to find the boy's mother standing on the stoop. She really did have a similar look to her son, but where the boy's features looked awkward and oversized, the woman's dark hair and eyes, and the large nose, coupled with her height and slender figure gave her a look of nobility.

"Mrs. Snape," the old man greeted, ushering her in. "Thank you for coming."

She nodded briskly. "I hope that Severus hasn't been a bother."

"Oh, not at all," the old man smiled warmly. "Your boy is very sharp."

She gave the boy in question a piercing gaze. "That does not save him from being tiresome."

"On the contrary, Severus has been a delight." The kettle began to whistle then. "Ah, perfect timing! Do stay for tea, won't you?"

"Certainly." She took a seat on the couch beside her son. Her cold visage looked almost comically out of place in the warm little cottage.

The old man busied himself with making tea- putting three teacups and some biscuits on a tray with the pot. "Do you know what mint looks like, master Snape? A friend of mine favors it in his tea, and I've developed a taste for it myself. There is some growing near the garden shed. Would you be so kind as to fetch a sprig for me?"

Severus nodded. "I like it too."

"Two sprigs then." The old man smiled, and the boy hurried off diligently.

The man set the tea tray down on the table and took a seat to Eileen Snape's right hand. He poured the tea and handed a cup to the handsome woman.

"From what I've observed and gleaned from Severus, I've learned something of the situation with your husband."

Eileen opened her mouth to protest, but the man held up a hand to forestall her.

"I'm not judging. I merely hope that I might offer a mutually beneficial solution," the old man said in answer to her unvoiced objections. "Your son has expressed some desire to learn magic. And, as I grow older, I begin to regret my choice never to have children. I have no one to pass my knowledge down to. It seems like only yesterday I was a young man." He let out a little laugh. "And now I grow so old in my dotage that, the truth is, I could use a bit of help here and there. With your blessing, and the boy's consent of course, I would like to take Severus on as my apprentice. I would have someone to teach the things I've learned, of course, and some well needed help, and Severus would have something to occupy his inquisitive nature, while you would be saved the trouble of hiding such things from your brutish husband. So, you see," the man spread his hands, "mutually beneficial."

The woman's face had grown stern while the old man explained his proposal. She sipped her tea now. "I'm sorry, Mr….?"

"Peverell," the old man answered.

Her eyes widened at this. "I thought all the Peverells were dead."

The man favored her with a bitter smile. "I have the unhappy distinction of being the last," he explained, "and, as you can see, I'm still hanging on."

Eileen made no reply to this. "Mr. Peverell, I do not know you. You must surely understand how I cannot entrust the care of my only child to a complete stranger, however distinguished a line he claims to come from."

"As you say," the man answered, unperturbed, "but wouldn't it be preferable to know where he is and what he's up to than to have him wandering untended about the village. I may be doggedly old, but I do still remember what it's like to be a young boy."

She sighed. "I tell him to let me know where he's going, but nothing I do seems to stop him from doing as he pleases."

The old man nodded, smiling. "I'm sorry to say that I was much the same."

Eileen frowned but nodded. "Very well, Mr. Peverell, but I want him home before three o'clock every day, and only during the week- no weekends. If Severus agrees, of course."

"If I agree to what?" Severus asked, returning with the mint.

The man took the sprig of mint from him and crushed it between his gnarled arthritic fingers before dropping it into his cup.

"I'd like to offer you a job," he said finally. "I need someone to help me with my work- a sort of apprenticeship. I would pay you, or course, and teach you some of what I know."

Severus' eyes brightened with excitement and even Eileen seemed to lose her remaining reluctance at the mention of payment.

"I'll take it," Severus agreed. "The job, that is. Thank you, sir."

"Excellent," the old man clapped his hands together once. "I'll want you here at nine tomorrow morning. If that's all right with you, Madam?"

Eileen inclined her head. "Yes, that will be fine. Now, come along Severus. I thank you for your hospitality, Mr. Peverell, but we really must be going now."

"It was a pleasure meeting you, Mrs. Snape, and I'll be seeing you tomorrow, Severus," the old man said, still smiling.

Eileen wrapped one hand delicately over her son's shoulder, and they disapparated with a little pop of displaced air, leaving the old man once again alone.

He sat there for a moment, staring at the two untouched cups of tea before him. Then he pulled his pocket watch from his trousers and glanced at it. The numerous whirling dials and spinning symbols would have meant nothing to anyone else, but the man replaced the watch with a muttering of, "Never enough time," and hurried to change before he missed his appointment.

oOoOoOo

It was a much younger man who apparated directly into Albus Dumbledore's office.

Dumbledore's eyes widened as he looked up from the tea service he'd been arranging in anticipation of his guest's arrival. "Why, Mr. Peverell, how very peculiar," he said by means of greeting.

"Weren't you expecting me, Albus?" he asked, glancing at the tea and biscuits.

"Of course, my _dear_  man," Albus smiled, eyes twinkling, "but most people do not simply apparate into the office of the headmaster of Hogwarts. You'll have to forgive my surprise."

The man calling himself Peverell forced a smile. He's been trying desperately to ignore the fact that Albus Dumbledore has been flirting with him since he first made contact with the man some months before. The more time they've spent together, the harder this has become to achieve, and he can think of few things more unsettling than  _that_. "Hogwarts has a bit of a soft spot where I'm concerned. I've not had any trouble with the wards in quite some time."

"Hmm," Albus made a thoughtful noise in the bottom of his throat and began pouring them tea.

"You seem to be settling in," Peverell said, glancing speculatively around the office as he accepted his cup.

"Yes," Albus agreed, "Headmaster Dippet has been threatening retirement for so long I'd never thought he'd actually do it, but I feel the position suits me."

Peverell smiled. "I would agree."

There was a high tuneful cry as a mass of red and gold came careening in through the open window and landed in Peverell's lap.

"Ah, there's my boy," Peverell said, scratching the phoenix affectionately on the head. The bird made a happy cooing noise.

"Fawkes certainly seems to have taken a liking to you," Albus observed.

"Phoenixes have a long ranging existence, they experience things differently than people do; they have long lives, and even longer memories," Peverell said. "At one point he belonged to me- in so far as such an animal may belong to anyone other than himself."

Albus' eyes lit. "So you are a  _traveler_  then," he said the words with a certain reverence.

Peverell nodded with seeming reluctance. This was all part of his ultimate endgame. He had to give away just enough to get Albus to go along with whatever he asked without giving away any of his true intentions.

"I must admit that I had suspected as much," Albus looked almost gleeful at this new turn of events. "I always thought that the name Peverell was a bit too old for a man of your years. If you were sixty years older perhaps, but a man in his forties claiming the name Peverell must either be lying or have a more interesting story than he's letting on. I'd have known if you were simply lying, so you must have travelled here from the past. But please, won't you tell me what your first name is? I think we're passed surnames by now, wouldn't you agree?"

Peverell sipped at his tea, trying to hide a smile. "Would you like me to lie to you, Albus? I could make something up for proprieties sake I suppose."

Albus only smiled. "Oh, that won't be necessary. But on to another mystery, how is your little project coming along?"

"Well, I've secured the apprentice that I wanted. I have to say that I'm impressed by both his abilities and his… how should I say… _malleability_? I had expected to have a lot of work ahead of me- many firmly set ideas I'd need to coax out of him. I'm happy to find him so receptive. It makes my plans much simpler."

"And what exactly might those be?"

Peverell shrugged enigmatically.

"You know," Dumbledore said, "they've restricted the use of time-turners now. Too many people messing about was starting to have an effect on the time line. There are no more _travelers_. The Department of Mysteries has been tracking down anyone using a time turner and returning them to their proper time."

"Ah," Peverell said. "That's the funny thing about time travel, Albus. It's not easy to track."

"I could turn you in."

"Oh, you wouldn't do that, Albus."

"And why shouldn't I? Changing the future can have disastrous effects."

"You won't because you enjoy these conversations as much as I do, and you'd miss me if I was suddenly sent back to my own time. Also, you know as well as I do that any events that would drastically change the timeline have a way of making themselves  _unchangeable_. And while the vast majority of what we think of as the major turning points in our lives have no historical significance whatsoever, those few events that do, even something so inconsequential as a trip to the zoo, or arriving a few minutes too late to catch a train, are more or less set in stone. Anything that must happen inevitably  _does_  happen, and there's nothing at all we can do to stop it- whether we have the ability to travel through time or not. Nature has her own ways of preventing paradoxes, as you know quite well."

Albus studied him for a long time, and then finally he took a sip of his tea and said, "You know about Gellert."

"How many times did you try to change his path before you finally gave up?"

"Seven," he said, sipping his tea again and adopting an air of nonchalance that was so obviously feigned that Peverell nearly let the subject drop entirely to save Albus the discomfort of rehashing old regrets.

"It's quite likely that my efforts here will be in vain as well, but you must surely understand why I have to at least try."

"That's where this boy comes in then?" Albus asked. "You're trying to do for him what I was trying to do for Gellert."

Peverell nodded. "But for entirely different reasons."

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. "And you want my help?"

"From time to time I may ask the odd favor. Nothing that would overstretch the boundaries of what one friend may freely ask from another."

"And in return, I might expect you to continue to drop in for tea when it suits our schedules?"

Peverell raised his cup in a salute.

-October 2002-

Harry Potter tucked his time turner back into his robes and slumped into his desk chair- already an old man at twenty and the youngest headmaster Hogwarts had ever seen, he was beginning to look distinctly careworn around the edges. He pulled a bottle of scotch from the bottom drawer of his desk, poured a generous amount, and began nursing the first glass of the night. Fawkes ruffled his feathers from his perch in the corner.

"I know you're awake," Harry said to the empty room- seemingly addressing thin air.

There was a derisive snort from the portrait directly behind him.

"You know you  _can_  talk to me," Harry said, "I don't mind."

"I have no interest in indulging you in your self-pity, Potter," the portrait replied.

"You're hanging in here to advise your successors, not insult them," Harry said, draining his glass and filling it again from the bottle of Glenlivit that sat on his desk.

"Then I'll offer some advice. If you're feeling sorry for yourself, do what everyone else does and go out and find something pretty to shag and forget about it for a few hours. Or at least find somewhere else to mope."

Harry turned in his chair to regard the portrait of Severus Snape- given the place of honor on his cluttered wall.

"I happen to prefer  _this_ ," he held up his glass. "And since this is  _my_  office, I don't have to go anywhere. If I'm bothering you, you're free to go skulk about the dungeon like you do whenever I'm not here anyway."

"What I do with my free time is no concern of yours, and if you insist on seeking me for advice, then why don't we talk about what really has you sitting at your desk drinking scotch in the dark at two in the morning. I find it peculiar that you insist on spending your every waking moment fixated on this half-baked scheme of yours to save my life, and yet you refuse to talk to me about it."

"Yeah, but you're not  _you_ ," Harry insisted. "You're just a portrait, a shadow of a man, not the man himself."

The portrait of Severus Snape snorted. "Your point isn't completely invalid. However, the Severus Snape you spent your afternoon with is no more your beloved dungeon bat than I am. Surely the boy barely even resembles the man you knew. So, I'm afraid,  _little Headmaster_ , I am the best you can do. At least I'm a reasonable facsimile." He paused then, considering that. "I could refer to myself in the third person if you think it would make you more comfortable." When Harry didn't respond, he asked, "Did you love him?"

Harry spat scotch across his desk and turned back again to glare at the smugly smirking portrait. "Did you breathe in a few too many fumes the day they painted you?"

"Portraits don't breathe, Headmaster. Answer the question."

"How could I possibly  _love_  him? He hated me. Anyway, he's dead now, so what does it matter."

"You don't stop loving someone just because they're dead, and you've been trying quite desperately to remedy that little setback."

"That doesn't change the fact that he hated my guts and did everything in his power to make my life a living hell while I was at school."

Severus snorted. "Don't sound like such a petulant child. I was  _trying_ to protect you- even as you did everything in your power to make that impossible."

Harry tried a smirk on for size. "What happened to talking in the third person?"

"I often find it difficult to be objective where you're concerned."

Harry filled his glass for the third time while he considered that answer. "Are you trying to say that you were in love with me? Because, I'm finding that just a little hard to believe."

"I always had very strong feelings for you. I'm not saying that they were necessarily positive feelings, but your involvement in any situation made it difficult to ignore my emotions in favor of clear thinking."

"What are you trying to say?" Harry asked, giving him a puzzled look.

"Just that, given time and world enough to try, things may have turned out differently."

"You can be one cryptic bastard, Snape. Do you have any idea how infuriating that can be?"

The portrait smirked, and, if he didn't have the scotch to blame, he would have sworn he'd seen Snape's dark eyes twinkle. "I have an inkling."


	2. Chapter Two

Summer

-1969-

"Bring the milk in with you," Peverell called as there was a knock on the door. After his conversation with Severus Snape's portrait, he was feeling nervous about how he should proceed with these little teaching sessions, but he had mostly managed to get himself under control before Severus arrived.

"Where do you want this?" Severus asked, holding up the bottle of milk. The boy looked nervous as well, and that helped to assuage some of Harry's unease.

"I'll take it," he said, relieving Severus of his burden, and gesturing for the boy to take a seat at the kitchen table. "I was just going to make some breakfast. Have you eaten yet?"

Severus nodded. "Yes, mother made breakfast before father left for work."

"Ah, well I hope you don't mind if I have a quick bite before we get started."

"No, sir."

"Wonderful." Harry smiled at him, dished up a bowl of porridge from the pot on the gas stove, and mixed in some milk. "This will give us a chance to get to know each other a little better before our focus shifts on to things academic- a little quid pro quo?"

Severus' brow furrowed in confusion. "What?"

"It means tit for tat. I will ask you a question, and then you may ask one of me. Would that be fine with you?"

Severus nodded, perhaps a bit reluctantly. "Okay."

"Your mother says that you've been wandering around the village during your afternoons. What do you do during these little excursions?"

Severus shrugged. "I don't do anything. I just walk around and think about stuff."

"What do you think about?"

Severus' lip pouted out a bit. "I thought I get to ask you a question now."

The old man smiled. "And so you do," he agreed, "my apologies. What would you like to know?"

"How old are you?"

Harry took a bite of porridge as he mulled over his answer. "Around a hundred, I should think. How old are you?"

"Nine and a half," Severus answered promptly. "Are you a very powerful wizard?"

"Most people seem to think so. Do you have any pets?"

"No, I had a kitten once, but father backed over it in the drive." Severus' expression darkened as he passed on this bit of information. "Do you like muggles?" he asked then.

"I like as many muggles as I do witches and wizards," Harry answered. "It depends on the individual. Do you go to a muggle primary school?"

"No, my mother started teaching me reading and arithmetic when I was three. What house were you in at Hogwarts?"

"Gryffindor," Harry answered truthfully and didn't miss the momentary flicker of surprise that crossed Severus' face. "Does that bother you?" he asked.

"No," Severus answered quickly and then a bit softer, "maybe. Mother says that Gryffindors are all brash and lack subtlety and foresight."

"She's not entirely wrong," Harry allowed, "but children are sorted into their houses when they begin Hogwarts at the age of eleven. Most people change over the course of their lives- sometimes drastically. I've met very few wizards who do not change as adults from who they were as children. And not everyone fits easily into one category." This seemed to alleviate some of Severus' apprehension. "Did you have another question?"

"What happened to your wife?" he asked.

"I've never had a wife," Harry said, a bit surprised by the question. Though, perhaps he shouldn't have been. Most children have a fairly narrow view of social norms and, for all his intelligence, this Severus was still a child.

"Why not?" Severus pressed.

Harry might have pointed out that it wasn't Severus' turn to ask a question, but allowed for the boy's curiosity. "I've never been in love."

"You don't have to be in love to be married," Severus said, as though he were the one talking to a child."

"I don't suppose you do," Harry agreed, "but I don't imagine that being married to someone that you don't love makes for a very happy marriage."

"No," Severus said. "I'm never getting married."

Harry smiled sadly at him. "That's what all little boys say."

"That doesn't mean it isn't true."

"No, but someday you might change your mind."

Severus snorted a very derisive Snapeish snort, and Harry had to smile.

"That's enough of this for today, I think," Harry said, finishing off his porridge and rinsing the dish in the sink. "It's time we got to work."

"What are we going to do today?"

"What would you like to do today?" Harry asked, leaning against the counter and appraising the boy.

Severus looked around the room until his gaze fell on the cauldron by the fireplace. "Could we brew a potion?" he asked hopefully.

Harry nodded. "You've brewed with your mother?" he asked, though Severus had already told him as much.

Severus nodded.

"I do have a few things that I need to brew. Do you think you can prepare some ingredients for me?"

oOoOoOo

By the time Severus left at 2:30 that day, Harry was exhausted. He needed to refresh his stores of aging and de-aging potions, and he'd thought that he would be safe enough having Severus help to prepare the ingredients for these.

A traditional aging potion worked similarly to the polyjuice potion; it would wear off after a set period of time based on the potency of the brew. Harry didn't want to run the risk of being unable or forgetting to take a dose of the potion and reverting to his natural age at an inopportune time, so he and Hermione had spent a few months reworking the potion to make it permanent until the antidote was taken. The recipe of the original potion had been so altered to achieve this, many of the ingredients changed, that Harry had assumed he would be safe having Severus help him with it without giving himself away.

He may have underestimated Severus' potions knowledge.

And so, Harry had spent most of the day dodging Severus' questions and cursing his own short-sightedness. By the end of the day, Harry was pretty sure that Severus was convinced that his new mentor was senile, trying to create a potion to make himself young again (technically true), or both. Whatever Severus thought, Harry did not feel as though he'd made the best impression. Harry didn't know how to answer Severus' insightful questions and had managed only vague misdirection.

The end result of all of this was that Harry would have to brew his aging potions by himself in the future and find something else for Severus to work on. For now, Harry was almost glad that the boy had gone home to his cowardly mother and abusive father. Perhaps it was selfish, but Harry really just wanted to be twenty again, at least for a few hours. The aging potion didn't just make him look like he was a hundred years old; it made him feel a hundred years old, and between the arthritis in his hands and how badly his back ached from being hunched over a cauldron for most of the day, Harry just wanted to drink his antidote potion and then maybe two or three glasses of scotch.

He sighed and rubbed at his old eyes behind his frankly inadequate spectacles and forced himself to get up on his aching old legs and go to the cabinet where he kept his potions. As he downed the vial, his relief was immediate. All of his aches and pains disappeared instantly, and the fatigue that had been plaguing him all day eased into a barely noticeable sense that bedtime may be approaching sometime in the not too distant future. He stretched his lean fit body, reveling in the joy of being twenty for just a moment. He stripped off his robes. He'd been wearing them comfortably all day, but now they were drowning him and floating a couple inches above his ankles simultaneously. He changed into a set of his normal robes and pulled the time turner around his neck out from under them.

He twiddled the time turner between his hands. It had been another of Hermione's ideas: another variation. It was fixed to two separate locations- one here in his cottage in 1969, and the other back in his office at Hogwarts in 2002. It stored this information and maintained the two separate timelines. So, every time he used it, he would be sent back to the point he'd come from in either place. Finally, he flipped a few of the dials along the top to set it and spun the tiny hourglass.

-October 2002-

Harry slumped into his desk and wasted no time in pouring a drink.

"How long were you gone this time?" a voice drawled behind him.

"Just for the day," Harry answered. "I don't think I could've taken much more than that. You were a really infuriating child, you know that?"

"All children are infuriating," the portrait responded. "You most especially so, if you'll recall."

"Oh, I wasn't that bad." Harry turned to look at him. Severus was painted in all his glory- robes fluttering out dramatically behind him in an imaginary wind. His usual scowl was absent this evening though, instead he had an uncharacteristically thoughtful look. "Do you remember me teaching you potions today, or I guess it would have been, what _,_ thirty-three years ago?"

"Teaching may be a bit of a stretch, but, yes, I remember."

Harry sipped his drink. "What do you actually think about all this? I'm not sure that I ever actually asked you."

"You didn't," Severus said. "I'm not entirely sure that I have an opinion about any of this."

Harry snorted. "You always have an opinion about everything."

The portrait sighed. "Objectively, I think that you're wasting your time. This is a very long-term endeavor you're undertaking, and I don't think that you've considered all the possible ramifications. You intend to be a part of my life all through my Hogwarts years, correct?"

"That's the plan."

"So, even if you discount the times while I'm at school, you're talking about an investment of five years. All during that time, you'll be living simultaneously in two separate timelines. Just because you're living in the seventies doesn't mean that you'll cease to age. That means that if you continue on the schedule you've been on, splitting your time equally, when you reach your twenty-fifth birthday, you'll actually be thirty years old. By the time I have graduated from Hogwarts, you'll need to continue to go back to ensure that you haven't altered the timeline enough to allow for Voldemort to rise to power, or your own death, or any number of other consequences from your meddling. That, of course, is if this even works at all. I think it just as likely that I'll be drawn into Voldemort's inner circle regardless of your attempted intervention, and things will play out as they did before."

"Thanks for the vote of confidence," Harry said. He finished off and refilled his glass.

"You're becoming an alcoholic."

Harry shot him a glare. "You should judge. Who do you suppose cleaned out this office after you died? The number of empty bottles that I had to get rid of when I moved in could have come out of an Irish pub on Saint Patrick's day."

"Then you should believe me when I say that the answer to your problems isn't in the bottom of a bottle."

"I never thought it was." Harry sipped his drink. "I'm coping, Snape. The last few years have been… difficult. If I need a drink or two to forget and relax enough to get some sleep, then that's my business. Since when are you concerned anyway?"

"What have I ever done to make you think that I wasn't concerned about your wellbeing?"

Harry toyed with the glass in his hands and looked up at him, speaking reluctantly what was on his mind. "That thing you said last night, about how things might have been different, it's been bothering me. What exactly did you mean by that?"

"Wouldn't you consider this conversation a sharp turn from our prior interactions?"

"Yes, I suppose, but it's not the same. You're not even really Snape, and I'm older now. I don't let you intimidate me."

"The only reason I don't intimidate you is that I'm not the real Severus Snape; I'm a square of enchanted paint and canvas. But, that's beside the point. You are older now, and our positions have changed. If I had lived and we had been given opportunity to have some kind of interaction with each other as adult equals without any agenda, I imagine it would have been much like this. Perhaps we even could have been friends."

Harry drained his glass before he could muster the courage to ask, "Or more?"

The portrait smirked playfully as his gaze scanned Harry up and down, "Perhaps. Are you ready to admit that that is what you really want? That it is the real reason why you're doing any of this?"

Harry looked at him for a very long time, not saying anything. The truth was, he didn't know why he felt so compelled to try to save Snape. After everything that had happened, Severus certainly deserved another chance- a chance to live his life free of obligations, answerable only to himself. But, that didn't mean that there weren't plenty of other people who deserved the same. He could attempt to save Cedric, or Fred, or the Lupins, or any number of others, but somehow that just didn't feel right. Deep down, he knew that it wouldn't work. Even with all evidence to the contrary, he really thought that this would. He just knew that he wasn't wasting his time with Severus. But, did he have an ulterior motive? It was possible. If he hadn't at least been thinking about it, they wouldn't be having this conversation. If everything went to plan and they were both still alive at the end of all this, then maybe there could be something more to their relationship.

"I don't know," Harry admitted finally, "maybe. I hadn't really even considered it until you suggested it, but I wouldn't be completely against the idea if that's how things work out."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "There are easier ways to go about finding a lover, and I'm certain that you could find one much more agreeable than me."

"I've tried that. It didn't work out."

"Oh, to be certain, I couldn't have missed the parade of men to come through that door since you broke things off with Ms. Weasley."

"Anyway, I never actually said that I wanted… well,  _you_. I just guess I want the option. Maybe you're right, things could have turned out differently, but unless you're alive we'll never find out."

"As you say, but I wouldn't suggest waiting around to find out. You're young; you should live your life for yourself. Don't waste it in service to a dead man. Whatever you think you owe me- let it go."

Harry rose from his desk. "How exactly do you think I can do that- with you hanging there scowling at me every day? How can I live with that constant reminder of everything I can't have, knowing that I could do something about it?"

"I thought you weren't sure about what you wanted."

Harry ran his hand through his hair. "I'm not. I'm going to bed." He went through his office into his private quarters without giving Severus another glance. He went into his room, but even though he'd intended to spend the night here, he didn't climb into bed; instead he pulled the time turner out and spun it back to the sixties.

-1969-

Harry woke in his little bed in his cottage. He panicked for a moment when he realized how late it was. Severus could be there at any moment, and he still looked twenty years old. He all but ran to his potions cupboard and downed his aging potion. The agony of instantly aging eighty years settled into his bones and left Harry gasping in pain. He followed the aging potion with a pain killer and took a seat at the kitchen table.

Severus arrived a minute or two later. "I brought in the milk," Severus said, holding up the jug. "Are you okay?" Concern lined the boy's face.

Harry forced himself to smile as warmly as he could manage. "I'll be fine. I'm just a little sore. Do you think that you could make me a cup of tea?"

Severus went over to the stove. He had to stand on his tiptoes to reach the back of the range for the kettle, but he didn't seem to have too much trouble after that. In a few minutes, Harry had a hot cup of tea in his hand, and Severus was sitting across from him staring at him expectantly. Harry did his best to ignore the boy as he sipped his tea. The truth was he wasn't just sore from suddenly being old; he was also suffering from a mild hangover. Perhaps Severus' portrait had a point. Maybe he should cut back on his drinking a bit.

"Did you just wake up?" Severus asked.

Harry nodded, massaging his brow.

Severus continued to stare at him for a moment before Harry realized that the boy was waiting for him to ask a question.

"Do you have any magical portraits in your house?"

"Just one of my grandmother," Severus answered. "Father doesn't like it, but mother cries every time that he tries to take her down."

"Do you ever talk to her?"

Severus shrugged. "Not really, she naps a lot. She's always awake to tell me to tie my shoes when I walk by though. It's like she has a sixth sense for whether or not my shoes are tied."

Harry looked down at the shoes in question. One of them was indeed untied. They were in a sorry state: scuffed, coming apart at the seams. The sole of one was coming unglued pulling apart from the bottom like a gaping mouth, and the tip of Severus' great toe poked out of a hole in the other.

It hit him like a blow to the stomach, and suddenly Harry remembered why he was doing this and felt worlds better. He hadn't started this whole thing in some hope of getting a possible future Severus Snape into his bed. He'd begun this little project to help a young boy, not so unlike himself, who was being neglected and abused by his parents. A boy that didn't have any friends, and had to walk around in second-hand clothes and broken, worn out shoes that he'd probably outgrown last year.

Harry smiled at him, genuinely this time, when Severus followed his gaze and hurriedly bent to tie his shoe.

"I have a new potion for us to brew today," Harry said when Severus resurfaced from under the table. "You'll like this one."


	3. Chapter Three

-Fall 1969-

"Here's your milk," Severus said, setting the bottle on the table. He started the kettle without being asked. This had become routine. Harry would sit at the table, recovering from his shift to old age, and Severus would make him his morning tea while they talked over matters personal.

"Did you have an enjoyable weekend?" Harry asked.

Severus turned from the stove and gave Harry a dazzling crooked grin. Harry had seen it a few times, usually over a successful potion or the display of a particularly impressive piece of magic, but it never ceased to shock and amaze him.

"I made a friend," Severus said. "Her name is Lily."

Harry felt his momentary elation at Severus' obvious joy disappear to be replaced with a sense of dread. It wasn't that he didn't want the boy to have friends. If there was ever a child who would benefit from some honest companionship, it was Severus Snape. However, Harry had feared this particular turn of events since his started out on this project. He was going to find it very difficult to avoid the temptation of meeting the little girl who would become his mother, but it was just too big of a risk to take. He didn't know what would happen if he somehow changed her future, but he didn't want to find out. His only goal here was to save Severus' life; he couldn't afford the risk of trying to change anything else.

Harry forced the wavering smile to stay on his face. "Tell me about her."

Severus brought their tea over and sat down across from him. "She's a witch! Her parents and her sister are all muggles, but she can do magic."

"Does she live in the village?"

"Just across the meadow behind my house. I've seen her around, but I never talked to her before. She's brilliant! Can I bring her over here sometime?"

Harry felt his heart sink. He hadn't anticipated this, though maybe he should have. "Perhaps next week," he heard himself saying, buying time. "We need to focus on the batch of potions we're working on now. When those are finished, I thought we might go to Diagon Alley."

Severus' eyes widened in excitement at that. "Maybe Lily could come with us. She'd love to see Diagon Alley. She'd never met any wizards before she met me. She didn't even know the magical world existed. She just thought that she was weird. Isn't that funny?"

"Yes," Harry said, though his tone was noncommittal. He sipped at his tea. "We'll see what happens."

oOoOoOo

He did his best to distract Severus from conversation of Lily that day with only marginal success. That was one thing he'd learned about Severus over the last few months: once he'd latched onto a subject he just didn't want to let go. In these cases, Harry found it very difficult to be patient with the boy.

Most days Harry relished the time he spent with the boy and the long peaceful hours he spent alone after in the quiet of his little cottage, and only returned reluctantly to the complications of running Hogwarts in the aftermath of the war, but not today. Today he was only all too happy to shepherd Severus out the door. He wasted no time downing his de-aging potion, not even pausing to enjoy the effects as he pulled out his time-turner.

January 7th

-2003-

Harry breezed through his office. He'd long since moved Severus' portrait to his private sitting room, at the man's own bidding. Lately, their conversations had veered toward the personal, and Harry had been all too happy to conduct them away from the listening ears of Albus, Finneus, and all the countless others.

"I was planning to take him to Diagon Alley and buy him a full potions kit and a new pair of shoes, and he wants to bring  _my mother_ ," Harry said, by way of explanation for his foul mood, as he slumped into the sofa. "I want scotch."

"I'm hardly in a position to fetch it for you. Call a house elf."

"Kreecher," Harry called.

"Not that one," the portrait muttered darkly, just in time for Harry to hear it before the object of his ire popped into the room.

"What is Master Black wanting?" the elf asked.

"I've told you," Harry said, "my name is Potter."

Severus snorted. "By all means, call him Peverell if you like. I hear that's what he's going by."

Harry ignored him. "Can you get me a glass of scotch from the liquor cabinet over there," Harry pointed, "and perhaps something to eat? I've been neglecting breakfast lately."

A look of confusion passed the elf's face, as well it should, for all he knew Harry hadn't missed a breakfast in the great hall since the start of term. The old elf toddled over to the liquor cabinet and pulled down the decanter of amber liquid. He uncapped the crystal stopper and sniffed. His wrinkled old face wrinkled further in disgust. "Master isn't to be drinking this swill," he said, "I will bring you something better from home." With that pronouncement he popped out of the room.

"Swill?" Severus sputtered, clearly disgusted. "That's almost fifty year old scotch, aged for twenty-one of those years in a cask of French oak. I was saving it for the end of the war."

"Well," Harry said, "the war is over, and you're dead. You should have drunk it when you had the chance instead of leaving it around for me. Anyway, Kreecher is right. The Black cellars can probably do better."

"Should you ever wonder in future why I so hated your godfather, I will point to this conversation by way of elucidation. I spent almost a month's salary on that bottle, and had meant to save it for a special occasion. You have a hundred or more bottles that easily outstrip it mouldering away in the basement of your mansion and are about to open one because you had a bad day."

"Grimmauld Place is hardly a mansion," Harry corrected, "and even if it was, I'd gladly give it up to have Sirius back." Severus snorted, but Harry pressed on. "Just as I'd gladly give up the contents of my Gringotts vault if it meant my parents were alive. Or  _you_  for that matter," he added after a moment.

"Well, let us hope it doesn't come to that," the portrait said. "If all of this works out in your favor, I quite look forward to sampling a few of the bottles in your cellar for myself."

Harry smirked at him. "And what makes you think that you would be entitled to that?"

Severus' retort was interrupted by Kreecher's return. The elf deposited a fresh crystal decanter on the side table for Harry along with a platter or assorted sandwiches. "Will master need anything else?" the elf asked.

"No, Kreecher, this will be fine. Thank you."

Kreecher nodded and once more disappeared, and Harry returned his attention to the portrait on the wall. "Can we get back to the problem of my mother?" he asked.

"I'm not quite sure that there is a problem. I would have thought that you'd be eager to meet your mother."

"Well, that's the problem, I am." Harry poured a generous amount of scotch from the decanter into his glass. "I'm not sure that I have the fortitude to keep saying no, but it just isn't worth the risk."

"What risk is that exactly?"

"That I might change events."

"Isn't that your ultimate goal?" Severus asked, honestly perplexed.

"Well, yeah," Harry said, sipping his scotch, "but what if I change something that shouldn't be changed. What if she doesn't marry my father? What if I'm never born?"

"So, your concern is that you will meet Lily and suddenly cease to exist?" Severus chuckled lightly.

"Why is that funny?" Harry asked.

"Because that would be impossible. You can't change the past to negate your own existence because there would be no circumstances under which you would be able to go back in time afterward to do so."

"I'm not sure I understand."

"It's a paradox, an inarguable paradox, and even if it weren't there are some events that are truly meant to happen, fixed events, and I believe that the Dark Lord's defeat is one of those. As much as you like to play the humble war hero, even you must surely realize that you were instrumental in his downfall."

"Yes, but it could have just as easily been Neville Longbottom."

" _Longbottom?_ " Severus scoffed.

Harry shrugged. "Maybe it should have been Neville. Look at what he did that last year- while you were headmaster. Look at what he organized. Neville was always braver than I am, and a better leader. Neville is just a better man."

"That's nonsense, and you know it," Severus said. "What's worse is that you also believe it."

Harry took another gulp of his scotch. "I don't know what I believe."

"That at least is the truth." Severus sighed. "I have never done anything to lead you astray, and yet you still have never trusted me. Trust me now, just this once. Some things are worth the risk, and I believe it to be a very small one if there is indeed any risk at all. Things will happen however they are meant to happen. If you are meant to change the course of events then you will, if you are not meant to change them, this whole endeavor of yours will just be a heartbreaking waste of time. In any case, you should take the opportunity to get to know your mother. She was worth knowing."

oOoOoOo

Despite how much he really wanted to take Severus' advice, Harry spent the whole following morning debating his course of action. He sat at the head table, looking out over the sea of students. He pulled his glance away from them and cast it down the table instead. Most of the professors had stayed on for a year after the war- to help rebuild the castle and get Harry settled as headmaster, but then there had been a mass exodus as teachers that had seen the school through two wars took their long-overdue retirement. Of the old guard, only Trewlany and Binns remained teaching. Hagrid still tended the grounds, but had retired from teaching to devote more time to his little brother. Harry had called in a few favors and managed to fill the empty positions without too much trouble- mostly from the Order of the Phoenix roster, and primarily the Weasley members.

Ron had stepped in as the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher immediately after the war, with Hermione joining him a year later- stepping into McGonnagall's shoes as both Trasfiguration teacher and head of Gryffindor house. Charlie had taken over for Hagrid. Bill taught Ancient ruins. Arthur Weasley was having the time of his life with Muggle Studies, and Molly was handling the Infirmary quite well. Ginny had even taken over charms. Of the few non-Weasley members of staff, three were non-order members. Augustus Tripplehorne, taught Astronomy and was head of house for Hufflepuff, and Elizabeth Bianco taught Potions and watched over Ravenclaw. Draco Malfoy, the only Slytherin that Harry could get to join the staff, was head of his old house and had replaced Madam Hooch as the flight instructor.

That only left Neville Longbottom. He was the obvious choice to replace Madam Sprout, but he had also proved to be invaluable as Harry's deputy headmaster. Harry had first offered the position to Hermione, and then to Ron, but they were busy starting a family and couldn't devote the time that the job required. Neville had been a last-minute substitute that had worked out better than Harry could have dreamed. They made a perfect team, and Harry didn't know where Neville's sudden confidence had come from, but it suited him. They had all grown up a lot over the course of their education and the end of the war, but perhaps Neville most of all. Gone was the round pale boy who stuttered when he was nervous and had a memory like a sieve; He had been replaced by a well-built, bright, articulate, young man who demanded respect and received it just by entering a room. It made Harry feel short and ordinary sometimes just to stand beside him.

He'd meant what he said to Severus the night before. Harry really did believe that Neville was a better man. He would make a damn fine headmaster too, when Harry resigned in five years after his time-travel project was completed- for better or worse.

The thing was, he could really use Neville's advice now, but he couldn't ask for it. Oh, Neville would be infinitely sympathetic about Harry's desire to meet his mother. His friend had never really known his own mother either. But, that was the crux. His and Neville's destinies had always been interchangeable. The prophecy could have been about either one of them, but Voldemort had  _chosen_  Harry. He was sure that Voldemort was meant to be defeated, but it could just as easily have been Neville, and how then might Harry's life have been different? Would Lily and James have been able to defend themselves against Bellatrix Lestrange? Surely Alice Longbottom would have given her life to protect her only son as readily as Lily had, thus providing Neville with the same protection that had saved Harry countless times. No,… that was too much of a temptation to even think about. He could never do that to his friend. Some ingrained sense of fairness prevented him from even considering it.

If he did decide to interact in any way with his mother, there was a lot more than just his existence at stake. It wasn't just his destiny either, Neville's was at risk also- his destiny and his lifestyle.

"Is something the matter, Harry?" Neville asked suddenly, interrupting Harry's thoughts.

"Oh, um," Harry met his eyes, instantly feeling guilty. "Just under a bit of stress lately. Maybe I need a day off."

Neville laughed.

"Yeah, I guess that is a bit of a joke."

"When is the last time you took a day off?" Ron asked, joining the conversation.

Harry thought about it, and honestly couldn't come up with an answer. Even his summers and weekends over the last five years had been filled with work- coordinating with the ministry, moonlighting for the Auror department, attending charity functions, redesigning lesson plans, and even occasionally filling in as a relief seeker for the English National Quidditch team.

If Harry was being honest with himself, and he'd been unusually forthright in that respect lately, the real reason he'd thrown himself so into these efforts was to distract himself from the downward spiral his personal life had taken. It was the same reason he drank too much most nights, and the reason for his recent promiscuity- Severus wasn't exaggerating the number of men that Harry had taken to bed since he'd admitted to his sexual preferences and broken things off with Ginny.

And it all came down to one thing, a thing he was finally ready to acknowledge. He was fixated on Severus Snape.

It was the reason that he had no desire to commit to any kind of long-term relationship, the reason that he couldn't sleep at night, the reason he kept a pensieve on his bedside table, and the reason he arrogantly thought that he could play with time.

Well, to hell with it, he was Harry Potter. One way or another, he was going to see this through to the end. Rash behavior and gut instincts had gotten him this far in life, and he was at a point where he was ready to throw in the towel if the universe wouldn't cut him a break just this once. Severus and Albus had both told him that things would happen as they were meant to, and he was ready to trust them. Let the chips fall where they may.

"If you have to think about it for that long, maybe it's time you took one," Ron said, laughing.

"Don't pester him, Ron. Harry has a lot on his plate. Maybe you should try working a bit harder once in a while," Hermione said.

"Why don't you take today off, Harry?" Neville offered. "I can cover for you, and you don't have any meetings scheduled today."

Harry nodded. "If you really don't mind, Neville, I think I'll take you up on that."

"Please do." Neville smiled. "You deserve it."

That didn't help with the feelings of guilt he was having over his decision, but he smiled anyway, and drained his teacup before rising from the table and taking his leave.

Once he returned to his room, he made a hasty search of his trunk until he found the mobile phone he'd purchased a few years back. The battery was dead of course, it was rare that he used it as often as once a month, but a quick wave of his wand fixed that. He flipped the phone open and pulled up its internal memory, dialing one of the three numbers saved there.

It rang three times before the man on the other end answered. "Hello?"

"Hey, Dudley. It's Harry. I'm glad I caught you at home. I actually have the day off today, and I was wondering if you'd want to meet for lunch."

"Can't today, Harry. Donna is out of town visiting her sister, so I'm watching the kids until she gets home. You could come over here if you want though; bring Teddy."

"Yeah, Alright."

"See you soon then."

"Sure."

oOoOoOo

Harry picked Teddy up from Andromeda's, and apparated them side-along to an alley near Dudley's house in Croyden. He held the boy's hand as they crossed the street to his cousin's house. Teddy rang the bell, and there was a thunder of tiny feet heard from the other side of the door before it was pulled open.

Two blonde-haired little cherubs that didn't in the least bit resemble beach balls stood there with twin grins on their devious little faces. The girl, Lucy, was four, and the boy, Deckland, was three, but of a height with his sister so that they were often mistaken for twins.

"Uncle, Harry!" They exclaimed in unison just as their dad came around the corner.

Dudley Dursley had lost some of the muscle he'd had in his school days when he'd still been boxing, and he'd developed a bit of a paunch, but he was still a shadow of his former bulk.

When the Dursleys had gone into hiding during the war, Dudley had been saddled with all of Harry's old chores, and found that he didn't mind all that much. He'd cultivated his love of food into a talent for cooking, and after the war was over he'd attended a culinary college. Now he ran the kitchen at a high-end restaurant in London.

"Stop blocking the door, kids," he said, chuckling at his children's excitement. "Let them in."

They stepped inside, and the moment Harry helped Teddy out of his cloak and winter things, the children pounded away up the steps to play. Harry hung the tiny cloak on one of the pegs by the door and took off his own.

"Tea?" Dudley asked.

"Yes, please," Harry nodded and followed him into the kitchen.

Dudley started the kettle and they both stood there awkwardly for a moment before he broke the silence. "So, what's going on? I believe you took a day off just to pay a social call about as much as I believe that my wife is really visiting her sister."

"You think she's having another affair?"

Dudley shrugged. "I'm trying not to jump to conclusions. But really, what's up? I haven't heard a word from you in months, and now suddenly you ring me and say that you took the day off. Something has to be going on."

Harry sighed, "Yeah, and I could really use someone to talk to about it- someone who isn't actually involved in any way. But, it's complicated and it involves a lot of magic."

Dudley snorted. "I had assumed at least that much. When I made the decision to get back in touch with you and try to fix things, I understood that meant accepting your lifestyle. I don't mind that you're a wizard, Harry. If anything, I'm a little jealous. I want to know more about magic; I think it's interesting."

Harry nodded. This had actually been what he was hoping for, though he hadn't exactly known it when he'd set out that morning. "I'll try to explain, but just… don't judge, alright? Keep an open mind; the whole situation is really complicated."

"Yeah, you said that, and I am open-minded, or we probably wouldn't be having this conversation in the first place."

Five years ago, the idea that Dudley Dursley could be open-minded about anything would have made Harry laugh, but the really funny thing was that Dudley  _was_  open-minded. Whether he'd always been that way and had hidden it out of necessity, or if it was something that had come with maturity, Harry didn't know. But, at this point, Harry really did feel he could tell his cousin just about anything.

"Okay," Harry nodded. "I've been spending half my time in 1969 for the last few months."

"Like, time-travel? You can do that?"

Harry nodded. He pulled on the chain around his neck drawing his time-turner out from under his shirt. "This is called a time-turner. I've made a few adjustments to this one, it tethers me to one place and one time: it's 1969 right now in the village where our mothers grew up."

Dudley frowned and turned away from him to pour their tea. When he had filled their cups, he sat down across from Harry at the little kitchen table. "Why?" he asked then. "Why then? Why there?"

"That's where it starts to get complicated. There was a man who taught me at school. He worked for our side in the war- as a spy. He was killed during the final battle, and I want to save his life."

"If he died during the final battle, then how can you save his life by going back to 1969? Are you just going to tell him how he dies, so he knows how to avoid it thirty years later."

Harry shook his head. "No. I'm not sure that would work. Given what was at stake, I don't think that full knowledge would change anything. He would willingly go to his death. I have to change his whole destiny. I need to keep him from ever following Voldemort in the first place. I need to…  _give him something to live for_." He fell silent as the words left his mouth. They were true certainly. He couldn't ever hope to save Severus unless he could somehow make sure that he wanted to be saved.

"Why is it so important?"

"He saved my life more times than I can count. He's sacrificed everything down the line for the greater good, and he deserves a better reward for that then a life of misery and a premature death."

Dudley nodded. "Okay. I think I understand the situation, but I'm not quite sure I see what the problem is. You seem pretty confident about all of this."

Harry sighed and rubbed at his temples. "The problem is that his portrait is hanging in my sitting room, and I've been talking to him lately. It's started to complicate things."

"I can see why. Have you talked to a psychiatrist? Do wizards have psychiatrists?"

" _Ha ha_ , Dudley," he said, drily. "I'm not going crazy; the portrait talks back."

"Oh sure," Dudley nodded in agreement. "As long as the painting talks back, you're definitely not crazy."

"Wizarding portraits  _do_  talk back Dudley.  _Magic_ , remember? Do you remember Ginny?"

"That hot red head you were dating before you decided you liked sucking cock?"

Harry grimaced. "Yeah, her. Anyway, she's dating a muggle travel writer at the moment, and she's teaching now so she has to stay at the school while term is in session. They don't get to see each other often, so he bought her a computer and they video chat every night. Do you know what that is?" Dudley gave Harry a look like he'd just asked if Dudley knew what a telephone was. "Obviously you do. I have a hard time keeping up with that kind of thing myself. Comes from relying on candles and fireplaces, I suppose. Wizards don't tend to take very well to technology. Anyway, having a wizarding portrait on your wall is sort of like having a computer permanently on video chat."

"Okay. I guess I understand that."

"So, at the end of the day, I go back to my rooms, sit on my sofa, have a couple drinks, and we  _talk_. We talk about anything and everything, for hours, every night. I've become closer to him now than we ever were in life. I'm closer to him than anyone else probably. I suppose he's my best friend."

"So you're trying to save his life. That makes sense to me. What's the problem?"

"The problem  _is_  Dudley," Harry said, losing his temper a bit out of sheer frustration at the situation. "I've bloody well fallen in love with  _Severus Snape_!"

"Wait," Dudley narrowed his eyes. "You're talking about  _Snape_?"

That threw Harry off. "How do you know who Severus is?"

Dudley shrugged. "Now that dad is gone, mum talks about her childhood sometimes- usually when she's had a few martinis. The stories she tells tend to run along the same theme. Honestly, I think she misses your mother. She thinks Lily would still be alive if she'd never met  _that horrible ugly little Snape boy._  At least that's the way she tells it."

Harry thought about that for a moment before he answered. "I think she's wrong about that. Even if my mother had never met Severus, it wouldn't have kept her from being a witch. The magical world comes with its own set of dangers. My mother knew that, better than most maybe, and she accepted it as part of the package."

Dudley nodded. "I believe you. Mum's just lonely. Sometimes I think she even misses you."

Harry snorted. "We tried that, remember- two Christmases ago? You know how well that went."

Dudley nodded. "To another point, just for curiosities sake, how ugly is this guy? I mean, if dad was anything to go by, no one would ever say that mum has great taste in men, so he must be really bad."

Harry couldn't help a snort and a slight smile at that. "He probably wouldn't win any beauty contests, but he has his charms. It's not about that anyway. I'm talking about real love, not lust or infatuation. It doesn't matter what he looks like."

"You must have it pretty bad then."

"That's what I've been trying to tell you."

Dudley nodded and let out a long breath. "I guess you really weren't kidding about the complicated part, but if you really want to have a chance with this guy I suppose you don't have a lot of choices. It would kind of help if he was alive first." Dudley scratched his forehead, thinking- a little gesture that never failed to make him look a lot thicker than he actually was. "I guess if you needed something in the meantime, you and the portrait could… you know… video sex?"

Harry grimaced. "Okay, we'll pretend that the very idea of discussing this with you doesn't put me off ever having sex again… ever. Wouldn't that be kind of weird?"

Dudley shrugged. "You do what you have to. Why do you think your ex and her new toy boy don't just talk on the phone?"

Harry coughed. "Okay, that does it." Harry waved his hands in front of his face. "I just won't  _have_ sex."

Dudley laughed. "Oh, grow up, Potter. Does he even like you back anyway?"

"I'm not sure, maybe, probably, I don't know?" Harry hedged and Dudley gave him a questioning look in return. "He's dropped a few hints that if things had turned out differently, maybe there might have been something more there. Maybe."

Dudley narrowed his eyes. "That's an awful lot of maybes. Why don't you just ask him?"

"I can't do that."

"Why not?"

"You don't know him. You don't understand how he is. It wouldn't be pretty. He would humiliate me. He's the most snarky, unpleasant, and acerbic man I've ever met. The way he talks to people when he wants to, it's… pure acid. He just has a caustic personality, takes whatever chance he can to belittle me. He'd eviscerate me with his tongue."

"I thought you poufs enjoyed that sort of thing."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

"It was meant to be a joke," he scratched his forehead, "you know… rimming, that sort of thing?"

"You seem to know an awful lot about gay sex for someone with two kids."

"We get HBO," he answered, which of course meant nothing to Harry, but he didn't ask for clarification. "Anyway, you don't have to just come out and ask him directly; you can be subtle about it. Flirt with him a bit, and see what he does."

Harry nodded. "Okay, maybe I'll try that. Anyway, thanks for listening. I just couldn't talk to anyone else about it."

Dudley shrugged. "Anytime. I have a lot to make up for with how I treated you when we were younger. You can count on me for anything; you know that."

oOoOoOo

Harry had been wandering around Diagon Alley for the last few hours, slopping around the slushy snow in a black mood. He was starting to wish that he smoked just so he'd have something to do with his hands while he wandered the cold empty streets of this hub of wizarding commerce, muttering to himself like a lunatic.

He'd been in a good mood when he'd left Dudley's, after spending a few hours playing with the children and eating lunch, but once he'd returned Teddy to his grandmother, Harry had found himself at a loss. He wasn't ready to go back to Hogwarts. He hadn't had enough time to really work out what he thought about Dudley's suggestion to try to pursue Severus' portrait in some way, and he just wasn't ready to face him.

So, here he was, wandering around in the frankly dismal weather, when he looked up from his soaked shoes and became aware that he had somehow wandered down one of Diagon's numerous side alleys, thankfully not Knockturn, and gotten himself lost. More than that, he had the sudden feeling of being watched. He looked up and down the street, but he appeared to be alone, which did nothing at all for the short-hairs standing up on the back of his neck. Then he caught a flicker of motion out of the corner of his eye in the large front display window of the shop to his left. He turned and met the eyes that peered at him from out of a dozen paintings and portraits. The sign above the door proclaimed the shop to be Lissandra Elegrante's Gallery and Art Studio.

On impulse, Harry went into the shop. The bell above the door tinkled and he stepped in with a flurry of snow that blew down from the roof. He browsed around for a few moments, taken in by the display of colors and images on the canvases, before the proprietor came out from behind a curtain in the back of the gallery. She was maybe twice as old as Harry, rail-thin with paint spattered across bare, muscular arms.

"How can I help you?" He turned to her and there was the widening of eyes and tell-tale flick of the eyes up to his forehead. "Harr… Headmaster Potter?" She was clearly shaken at his sudden arrival, a look he had come to expect- even if it was something he would never get used to.

"Do you ever do commissioned pieces?" Harry asked. "I like your work."

"Did you want to commission a portrait?" she asked.

She looked like all her Christmases had come early, and Harry felt bad telling her, "No, actually, but I have a specific subject in mind." He smiled, feeling really good for the first time since he'd left his cousin's house. "How fast can you paint?"

oOoOoOo

Harry stumbled in well after midnight, struggling with a large wrapped package, and expecting to find Severus asleep in his frame. Instead he was startled as the candlelight flickered across the portrait, showing Severus' scowling visage. "Where have you been all day?"

"Hanging out with Dudley, playing with the kids, then I went to Frankie's for a while."

Frankie's was the only gay bar in wizarding London, and the mere mention of it seemed to deepen Severus' scowl.

"Fresh from your latest conquest, and drunk as an Irishman on St. Patrick's day," Severus sneered.

"Or any other day of the year," Harry said, raising an invisible glass in mock salute. "And, I had a number of tempting offers this evening, but I had to turn them all down. I was only in Frankie's killing time."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "Killing time for what?"

"I was waiting for your birthday present," Harry said, holding up the package.

Severus frowned. "My birthday?"

"January 9th, same as it's always been," Harry said with a grin.

Severus looked skeptical. "You do realize that I'm a portrait, don't you, Mr. Potter? Does your inebriated brain still have the capacity to understand that? I was never born.

"Nope," Harry smiled, "but it's still your birthday, and I brought you a present. Would you like me to unwrap it for you?"

"So help me, Potter, if you thought to buy me a  _friend_ …" Severus threatened, his tone making it clear exactly what he thought of that idea.

Harry laughed. "I wouldn't be that mean to anyone. Trust me, I think you'll like this." Harry pulled the wrapping from the parcel, revealing the canvas. The painting depicted a quite large, well stocked liquor cabinet. "Only the best the Black family cellars have to offer," he said, smiling hopefully.

Severus seemed almost perplexed. "That's actually quite…  _thoughtful_ ," he managed.

"Yeah, well," Harry smiled sheepishly. "I admit that I have an ulterior motive."

Severus frowned. "What do you mean?"

"It was the closest I could come to buying you a drink." For a moment Severus just looked blank at this statement, frown melting away in such an open look of confusion that Harry hardly recognized the expression on Severus' face.

"I still don't understand," the portrait said.

"Oh, you know, I'm trying to…  _declare my intentions_." Severus still looked slightly confused, so Harry pushed on. "Look, I'm not delusional or anything. I know that you're not a flesh and blood, living person, but you still  _are_  a person, and none of it changes the way that I feel. You've become very important to me over the last few months. I know it's not all I might have wanted, or all I might have hoped for, but it's what I have. It's like you said, you're not the Severus Snape I knew, but you're the best I can do. No,… that didn't come out right, you've become more than just  _a reasonable facsimile_  for me; you must know that. I never really knew the real Severus Snape as an adult, and now he's been dead for so long that what memories I do have of him have all been mixed up with teaching young Severus, and my conversations with you. I don't know where the line should be drawn anymore,… if any of that makes sense at all.

Severus rubbed the bridge of his nose, and when he spoke, his voice was oddly flat. "I think I'd like to put that present to use now. I'm going to need a few drinks if we're going to have this conversation."

"Oh," Harry had nearly forgotten that he still held the canvas, "of course." He set it down and then cast a few spells to levitate it up parallel to Severus' portrait and secure it to the wall. He went over to his own liquor cabinet and poured a drink while Severus chose something for himself.

"Don't you think that you've had enough already?" Severus asked when Harry very carefully took a seat on the sofa with his drink.

"Why do you think I had a few before I came home? I wasn't ready to have this conversation without a little help either, but I think it's time we talked about it." When Severus didn't comment, Harry pushed on. "My cousin said that I should be subtle about it, flirt with you a bit and see how you react. The more I thought about it though,… I realized that that's what we've been doing for the last few months, but I want more than that. So, I think that this conversation is long overdue."

Severus gazed at him steadily for a moment, downed his drink, and poured another. "You're not just suggesting a bit of fun, you're proposing an actual courtship here, aren't you?"

"I don't think I could do casual with this one," Harry agreed.

Severus shook his head. "It could never work. How could you ever hope to have a romantic relationship with someone you cannot touch? No matter how deeply you claim to care for me, eventually that fact alone would turn affection to contempt."

"Don't try to tell me that no one has ever tried it before."

"There have been precedents," Severus agreed, "but it carries a stigma. It's the kind of thing that people hide behind closed doors."

Harry nodded. This was something he had suspected. It was perhaps subconsciously the real reason that he had never broached the subject with Ron or Hermione. Not only would they have been shocked and disgusted at how deeply his feelings for Severus ran, but there would have been sadness and pity in their eyes at the thought of him being in love with the portrait of a dead man. The first he maybe would have been able to deal with, the last would have been too much.

"It's just you and me in this room, Severus. No one else needs to know, and then someday, if my plan is successful, maybe we can be together for real."

"What would be the point then," Severus spat out, suddenly angry. "If you save  _him_ , I, this version of me, would cease to exist. Whatever we had managed to build together out of this steaming-pile-of-dragon-dung of a situation, would be for naught. You'd have to start from the beginning, try to convince him, me, that there could be something worth having there."

Harry smiled sadly, "He'll be angry at being deceived, you'll be angry. I'm beginning to understand how you think, and maybe why you think that way. But, just because it isn't ideal, does that mean we shouldn't find whatever happiness we can  _now_?"

"You seem to think awfully highly of my feelings for you," Severus snapped.

Harry shook his head. "Don't do that."

Severus scowled, "Do what?"

"Close yourself off like that again. I know you think I'm stupid, and maybe you're right, at least subjectively. I'll never be as naturally intelligent as you are, but I'm not blind. I know you have feelings for me too, or I never would have mustered the courage to have this conversation- alcohol or no alcohol." He sipped his scotch as if to demonstrate.

Severus seemed to deflate a bit at that. "Even if I do have some affection for you, and how I could possible see anything in a short, near-sighted, brash, impulsive, Gryffindor prat like you is beyond me, what exactly are you suggesting we do about it? Relationships are built upon much more than just drunken conversations at two in the morning."

"No, they're built on trust and respect, common interest, physical attraction, and emotional compatibility."

"We could never have any kind of physical relationship. Don't try to tell me that you'd be satisfied with that, because I've seen the full extent of your libido."

"Well, like I said, it's not  _ideal_ , but even if we can't touch each other, there are ways around that end of things."

"What do you mean?"

Harry flushed. "Do I really have to spell it out?" he muttered.

"If you're really suggesting that we begin a romantic relationship based entirely upon conversation, then  _yes_. You must, as you say, spell it out for me."

It was almost a purr, and Harry took another drink from his glass, not meeting Severus' eyes as he said, as clearly and loudly as he could manage- hardly more than a whisper, "Well, for one thing, I think I could come from the sound of your voice alone."

"Oh?" Severus was smirking. He'd finished a second glass from his own bottle of scotch and was pouring a third, and it was beginning to have a visible effect- there was some pink coloring his usually sallow cheeks, and a glint in his eye. "What else?"

"We can still touch ourselves, and," Harry cleared his throat, fighting the lump there that threatened to choke out his words, " _watch_. It's how people in long distance relationships do it these days, with computers." He tried to forget that it was actually  _Dudley Dursley_  who had suggested the, probably obvious, solution to this particular problem.

"Show me," Severus said. His smirk had become almost predatory.

"Show you?" Harry asked with a squeak.

"Take of your clothes, Potter. If I like what I see, I just might agree to this whole charade."

It was his name more than anything, not Harry but  _Potter_ , that convinced him and dissipated the last of his reservations. He was already half hard just at the slightly degrading use of his surname, whispered out in that deep, velvety stroke of a voice. He tried not to think too hard about what that might suggest about his sexual preferences. He downed his drink and set the glass down on the side table, then, with shaking fingers, began to unbutton his robes.

"Slowly," Severus purred.

Harry snapped his head up to meet the painted eyes of the man who had practically taken over the thoughts of his every waking moment. He swallowed again and started on the buttons once more, slowly and with steady fingers this time. He never took his eyes from Severus, watching his reaction.

Severus continued to sip his scotch, leaning back in his chair, eyes following the movements of Harry's hands.

Harry finished with the buttons, and he saw Severus' hand twitch against his glass as he paused before shrugging out of them.

"Your boots first," Severus said when Harry moved to start on the buttons of his shirt.

Obediently, Harry bent over and began unlacing his boots. He pulled them off and tossed them aside, along with his socks.

"Now the shirt," Severus allowed.

Harry returned to his shirt buttons, licking his lips and leaning forward a bit to give Severus a better view- revealing clavicles and throat, muscled chest, dusky nipples proclaiming his arousal, flat stomach, and a ghosting of black hair disappearing below his belt.

Severus hummed deep back in his throat at the sight, and the low sound reverberated like thunder in the silence. "No, wait," he commanded when Harry hastily reached for his zip to free his steadily swelling erection.

Harry looked up to Severus. "Do you want me to stop?" he asked, voice husky with arousal.

"Pinch your nipple," Severus said. He finished his drink and set the glass aside, slipping his right hand under his robes to do something Harry longed for a better view of.

Harry gasped as his cock twitched in response with the pain of his twisted nipples. He continued pinching and twisting with his left hand as his right reached to relieve that agonizing pressure against his erection.

"I haven't given you permission yet," Severus said, and Harry stopped, letting out a feral groan. "You may rub yourself through your trousers if you wish."

Harry did wish. He rubbed his palm against the bulge in his trousers, releasing his nipple to trail fingers teasingly up and down his chest. He was powerless to suppress the moans that escaped his lips.

Harry could see the hand below Severus' robes moving, and he moaned louder. "Please, Severus."

"Is that how you beg?" Severus asked, smirking.

"Please," Harry whimpered again, unable to manage anything else.

"Show the proper respect, and I may consider your plea."

"Please,  _Sir_ ," Harry growled out.

Severus smiled, eyes dancing wickedly. "You may remove your trousers."

Harry didn't waste a moment. One hand was stroking his member, breath coming through slightly parted lips even as his other hand pulled his trousers down below his knees. He parted them for better access, quickening his strokes. Severus was moaning now too, guttural and soft, as he quickened his own strokes.

They didn't last long. Within moments, Harry was spilling his hot seed across his bare stomach. And, as he pumped his already softening cock for every last drop, Severus let out his own grunt and the hand below his robes first slowed and then stopped altogether.

After a moment when their ragged breathing had slowed, Severus said, "Next time you might think to have a packet of cigarettes added to the painting."

"You smoke?" Harry asked, momentarily jarred out of his post-orgasm haze by this statement.

"Only when the situation suggests."

Harry allowed his eye to lower to their former half-lidded state. "I take it you enjoyed yourself then."

"Quite."

"And we can do this again?"

"Yes."

Harry smiled, and rose to his feet, stumbling drunkenly as he kicked his trousers free from his ankles. Once unencumbered, he approached the portrait, looking for all the world like a stalking lion- for that moment all graceful lean muscle and predatory purpose. He stopped before the frame, raising one sticky hand to the canvas, only trembling slightly as he pressed it to the painting. Severus hesitated a moment before raising his own and pressing it against Harry's.

"Thank you," Harry whispered.

Severus' eyes were sad as he replied. "You shouldn't thank someone for ignoring their better judgment and giving in to desire."

The corner of Harry's mouth quirked. "I thank you for giving in to your heart. Most people would say you don't have one, but I know that isn't true."

"Go to bed now, Potter. I don't want to talk about this anymore."

"Harry."

"Harry," he agreed. "Goodnight."

Harry smiled. "Goodnight, Severus." He lowered his hand only to replace it with his lips, pressing them against the rough texture of the canvas and trying for all his worth to imagine that it was the flesh or Severus' soft smooth hand. Reluctantly, he pulled away and retired to his bedchamber.

Harry's bed felt very cold and lonely that night.


	4. Chapter Four

-Fall 1969-

Harry had been having a very difficult time meeting Severus' eyes all week. As long as he didn't look at those eyes, it was easy to think of him as just a boy like any other, but the moment he caught himself staring into those black fathomless pools he was lost. Then it became a struggle to separate the boy he was teaching from the man he spent his evenings with.

_He was starting to feel like a lecherous old man._

It wasn't that he felt any sexual desire for the boy. He was  _not_  a pedophile, and had no inclinations in that direction. It was just that looking into those eyes, Severus' eyes, made him remember in vivid detail what he'd been up to the night before.

_It was pure torture._

The first time this had happened, he had stolen away for a moment to rush home- hoping that a quickie with  _his_  Severus might help to assuage the problem. But, while Harry had been in an agony of desire for the better part of the morning, Severus had only just seen him off and was still enjoying the after-effects of his own orgasm.

_This time-travel thing was beginning to have drawbacks._

As ingenious as it had been to tether his time-turner to two separate timelines, avoiding a lot of the complications of a long-term venture like this, it meant that he had to spend a full 24 hours in each time so that he didn't have to muddle his way through two nights or, worse, two days in a row. Once he did manage to trudge his way through a full twenty-four hour period and return to his portrait, Severus wouldn't even have missed him. For the portrait, no time had elapsed at all.

_Evenings in 1969 had become very lonely._

oOoOoOo

When Friday finally rolled around, Harry was at his wit's end. He couldn't bear the torture of being locked in his little cottage with that constant reminder of what was waiting for him on the other side of another lonely night in this time- and an even more boring day of administrative duties in his own.

So, when Severus brought in the milk, Harry said, "Forget the tea today."

Severus looked up from the stove, where he'd been about to start the kettle, and Harry had to stare down at his wrinkled old hands to avoid meeting his gaze. "Sir?" Severus asked, "Is something the matter?"

Harry forced himself to smile at the boy. "Not at all, I'm just getting tired of being locked in this house every day. I think we need a distraction, and I believe I promised you a trip to Diagon Alley."

Severus' face lit up, and Harry was finally able to meet his eyes without feeling that weight of emotions. As an adult, Severus face would never bear that particular look of joy.

"And," Harry added, "if it is alright with her parents, you may bring along your friend Lily. I'd very much like to meet this girl who has so won your affections."

"Affections?" Severus squeaked out, flushing. "No, it's not like that. She's just… I…"

Harry chuckled and waved off Severus' stuttered explanations. "Just teasing you, Mr. Snape. Though, perhaps you should learn to lie better."

"I wasn't-"

Harry cut him off. "Go and fetch your friend."

Severus nodded, still pink in the cheeks, but obviously glad at a chance to escape.

"Oh, wait a moment," Harry stopped him at the door. "Let me give you something first."

Severus waited while Harry dug around on a shelf for something, and finally handed the boy a small leather purse.

"What is this?" Severus asked.

"Your payment for helping me," Harry explained.

Severus was confused. "But you've  _been_  paying me."

"Don't look at me like I've suddenly developed Alzheimer's, boy. I've only been paying you a small portion of your wages in muggle money- so you'd have something to cover any little expenses you might encounter during the week- sweeties, and funny books, and things boys like to spend their pocket change on. I know how little boys are with their money, so I've been saving the rest for you here, in wizard gold, that you might put it to some better use. I would suggest a sturdy pair of dragon-hide boots, and your own potion kit."

Severus had been starting to look angry, until he heard this last suggestion, then he looked into the bag and his eyes went big as saucers. Harry knew that the sum enclosed was more money than Severus had seen in his entire life.

"Hurry up and find your friend," Harry cut in, avoiding any embarrassing show of gratitude. "I want to get an early start."

Severus tied the pouch of money shut tightly and put it away in his pocket, then hurried out the door, leaving Harry alone.

Of course, Harry had grown up poor, and knew all the stigma that surrounded being the kid in town with the worn trainers and secondhand clothes, and he knew that Severus was probably hoarding away the money that Harry was giving him every week for something a lot more necessary than comics or sweets, but he didn't want Severus to feel as though the bag of money was a handout, so he'd purposely belittled the boy to make the gesture seem genuine. Harry had never been as good a liar as the adult Severus, but it seemed this younger version had yet to learn that skill. In any case, Harry had been intending to buy Severus a few things he had deemed the boy would need when they went to Diagon Alley, but with Lily along for the ride, it would have only served to embarrass the boy in front of his new friend. Better that Severus have his own money to spend.

oOoOoOo

Severus was gone long enough for Harry to work himself into a nervous meltdown. He made his own tea and fought the urge to drink something stronger instead. He sat at the table for a while, tapping his fingers and gulping down tea like it was lemonade on a hot day even as the hot liquid scalded his throat. Finally, he couldn't sit any longer, and he started pacing around the cottage, tidying things up- laughing at the thought that his mother might chastise him for having a messy room.

After what seemed an eternity, he heard the door open and turned to see Severus leading in a short red-haired girl. Severus really was tall for his age, but he stood more than a head higher than Lily.  _Guess that explains why I'm so vertically challenged_ , Harry thought.

He found himself just staring at her, unable to think of anything to say to break the silence. Thankfully, Severus stepped in. "Lily, this is Mr. Peverell."

Lily smiled, and it was like the sun shining for the first time, and Harry forgot to breathe. She extended her tiny hand to him, and Harry took it in his big, wrinkled one. "It's a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Peverell. Severus has told me all about you."

"And it's good to finally meet you, Ms. Evans," he said, shaking her hand. She gave him an odd look, and Harry panicked for a moment- trying to remember if Severus had ever mentioned Lily's last name.

"You look a lot like my grandfather," she said, and Harry had to mentally face palm himself. He had never taken  _that_  into consideration.

He recovered quickly, letting go of Lily's hand and plastering a grin on his face. "Obviously a very good-looking man, your grandfather," he said.

Lily giggled and nodded, pushing one lock of red hair behind her left ear.

"Now, I don't suppose you've ever used floo powder before?"

Lily shook her head.

"Don't worry, Lils. It's easy," Severus said. He walked over to the fireplace and pulled down the pot of floo powder. He took her hand and positioned it so it was palm up, then put a handful of powder in her hand and folded her fingers over it.

The tenderness of this gesture so touched Harry that he had to look away for a moment. When he had himself under control, he looked back and began to explain. "Severus will go first, then you, and I will go last. Only one person can use the fireplace at a time. You toss the powder in, and step into the flames. Don't worry; the fire won't hurt you. Then you simply say where you are going, very clearly, and off you pop. Try not to breathe in any soot or cough before you say where you want to go. Just step back out if you can't speak clearly. And take this," he handed her a small pouch of spare floo powder. "If you come out in the wrong place and Severus isn't waiting for you, don't panic, and don't go wandering around. Use the fireplace that you came out of, and try again. Come back here instead if you need to."

After his own first experience with floo powder, Harry was understandably a bit more nervous than was strictly necessary. He watched Severus use the floo as easily as only someone who has grown up with it can. With a nervous backward glance, Lily followed him. Harry forewent the floo and apparated instead. He appeared beside Severus in Diagon Alley just as Lily was stepping out of the fireplace. Her eyes widened when she saw him standing there, and she looked behind her, doing a double-take in her confusion.

"Once you get your license, you can apparate instead," Severus said, holding out his hand to help her over the hearth. "You just disappear from one place and reappear in another." He brushed some of the soot from Lily's flower print dress. "Less messy," he added with a crooked smile.

Harry watched this exchange with a twinge in his heart. He couldn't identify the emotions he was feeling- joy at this display of friendship, sorrow at knowing how it would end if he didn't intervene, or even jealousy at seeing Severus and his mother so close? That last had an unfortunate ring of truth, and Harry tried his best to push his feelings down.

He looked around at the street instead. Seeing Diagon Alley in this time never ceased to amaze him. It had always seemed to him that stepping into the wizarding world was a bit like going back in time. Coming from the muggle world, it certainly seemed that way- busy street full of cars and people, muggle technology everywhere, and then suddenly you were in a place where people used fires for heat, candles for light, wore robes and used cauldrons. It had always seemed so old-fashioned to Harry, but seeing Diagon Alley in 1969 had opened his eyes to something.

The wizarding world changed and grew and evolved just as much as the muggle one did, and the two were not as far separated as he had once thought. Here in an alien decade, he perhaps noticed elements of this that he never would have in his own time. In the muggle world the flower power sect were having their last hoorah before the peace and love of the sixties gave way to the sex, drugs, and rock and roll of the seventies. Just a few months earlier, men had first landed on the moon. The Vietnam war was ending even as Northern Ireland was turning to civil war. Woodstock had just happened in the United States, while, in Britain, the Abbey Road album was flying off the shelves. All of this had not gone unnoticed in the wizarding world, and even here, in Diagon Alley, Harry was aware of the change in both political and cultural atmosphere. Wizard and muggle influences so intermixed and mingled here that sometime it was hard to tell them apart.

A group of young people, looking only recently past their school years, seemed the perfect example of this. They wore an eclectic variety of clothing- wizard robes, floral patterned and traditional, big scraggly beards on the men, long hair on men and women alike, braided heavily with flowers in the case of one woman, bellbottoms, t-shirts, featuring both muggle and wizard images, all of this mixed together into a mélange that seemed totally natural and totally alien at the same time. A breeze blew by, and Harry caught a scent like pine needles and realized that what he'd first taken for a cigarette that two of them were sharing was in fact a joint, and was shocked to see them passing it in the open like that.

He turned back to the children then. Lily's eyes were wide, taking in everything. He remembered the first time he'd been to Diagon Alley and had to smile. "Well, Ms. Evans, welcome to Diagon Alley. There really isn't any better introduction to the wizard world that I can think of."

"This is amazing," she said in an almost breathless whisper.

"I know the feeling," he said. "Now I have a few things I need to get at the apothecary, but, seeing as this is your first time here, I think we can wait on that for a bit." He turned to Severus. The boy had been watching Lily's reactions with a smile on his face since they'd arrived. "Why don't you take Lily on a little tour for a while, and I'll follow you? You can get your shopping done, and then we'll stop for lunch and do my shopping."

Severus nodded. "Let's go this way first, Lil," he said, "I have to show you the bookstore, you'll go wild!"

Harry smiled at that and followed them at a leisurely pace as Severus led her down the street. Watching them like this both hurt his heart and seemed to heal it in equal measure- sorrow and joy indistinguishable.

They browsed the book shop, stopped into a few pet shops at Lily's bidding so she could coo over various fluffy animals, and spent half an hour in a clothing shop so she could help Severus pick out a new pair of boots. Severus passed Quality Quidditch Supplies without a second glance, but stopped in the sweet shop. He bought a few chocolate frogs for himself and some candied pineapple for Lily. Harry bought himself some lemon drops with a fond smile. He would give them to Albus when they had their weekly tea tomorrow. They window shopped for a while, Severus pointing things out and answering Lily's unending stream of questions.

They went into The Leaky Cauldron for lunch. The man working the counter seemed so familiar that it niggled at Harry until he actually barked laughter aloud when he realized that it was Tom. Harry had never seen him with a full head of hair before.

Severus and Lily gave him a questioning look, but Harry waved them off. "When you're as old as I am, you start to go a bit dotty. Don't mind me. Are you enjoying your first trip to Diagon Alley, Ms. Evans?"

"Oh yes," Lily said, nodding enthusiastically. "Severus makes a very good tour guide." She favored the boy with a smile.

"It's just shopping," Severus said, "it's not like we're walking around The Louvre."

"I've been there," Lily said, "trust me, this is more interesting.

Severus smiled. Harry didn't think he'd seen Severus smile as many times the whole time he'd known him as he had in the last few hours.

After lunch they went to the apothecary, and Severus forgot about Lily for a while when he and Harry started choosing potion-making equipment and ingredients. The boy certainly had a sincere interest in this branch of magic.

When they were done, Harry took the liberty of shrinking everything and putting a feather-light charm on it so Severus would be able to carry everything in a small pouch in his pocket. Lily watched this display of everyday magic in astonishment.

"That would sure make our trip to the market a lot easier every week," Lily said.

Harry smiled at her. "In a few more years that will seem like nothing," Harry told her. "You'll be turning your writing desk into a buffalo, or flying around on a broomstick, and taming hippogriffs before you know it."

"What's a hippogriff?" Lily asked.

Severus shook his head. "Doesn't matter. He's wrong. It's not his fault; he just doesn't know you yet. I've seen you in action. You'll be taming  _dragons_."

oOoOoOo

Harry was smiling later that day when he saw the children off. Severus was right, Lily Evans was certainly worth knowing- even as a nine-year-old. Even so, after the events of the day, he was emotionally drained and more than ready for bed. It was sure to be a long evening alone in the cottage as it was.

He took his de-aging potion and went into the bathroom to run the bath. While the tub was filling, he returned to the kitchen, poured a glass of scotch from the bottle he kept on the top shelf of his cupboard, and took an experimental sip.

He set the glass down on the lip of the tub, summoned a towel from the airing cupboard, and began to strip. It was such an immense relief as he sunk into the hot water, and he sighed in pleasure. The day had been enjoyable, despite its emotional toll, and Harry had been happy enough to hang back and watch. It was nice just to see his mother like that- so young and full of life. It was even nicer to see Severus so close to someone- even if it did make him a bit jealous.

If he could somehow manage to keep Severus and Lily from having the one fight that would end their friendship, maybe it would be enough to keep Severus from becoming a Death Eater. If that were the case, then Harry had to do everything in his power to facilitate that friendship- no matter how uncomfortable it made him.

Harry closed his eyes and leaned back into the water. It was sure to be a long, lonely night as things stood. He was going to do his best not to think about Severus. That was sure to make things worse.

oOoOoOo

-January 2003-

Harry couldn't help the grin that kept finding its way onto his face the next morning when he pulled out his time-turner and went home.

He hurried through his office into his private quarters and turned around to face the portrait on the wall, about to speak, when he noticed that the frame was empty. "What the hell?" Harry grumbled, grin finally gone for good. "Can't even wait for me for two minutes, Snape?" he asked the empty frame.

Feeling silly, but also very disappointed, Harry dressed for the day and went down to breakfast.

He was midway through his morning meal, when someone disturbed him- clearing their throat behind him.

Harry turned, still chewing his way through a mouthful of toast, to see Professor Bianco, the potions teacher. Harry had perhaps hired her because she was such a contrast to Snape. Where he was dour and grim, she was always smiling. She was fair-skinned, fair haired, violet eyed, and wore light airy robes of a silvery grey. She was just as tall as Snape had been, and almost as lanky. She even had a similar gait. The end effect being that, at a distance, it looked like someone had taken Severus Snape and dunked him in a vat of bleach.

Harry couldn't help but smile at that thought. "What can I do for you, Professor Bianco?" Harry asked, once he'd swallowed.

"Nothing really," she said, smiling. "I just wanted to let you know that I'm borrowing one of your portraits for the day- Severus Snape. I'm consulting with him on an experimental potion I'm working on."

"Oh," Harry let his face go blank. He was panicking inside. Portraits went where they liked and didn't answer to anyone. Why would Professor Bianco feel the need to inform Harry of this unless she suspected something, or Severus had asked her to- which might cause her to suspect something?

"He said you wanted to consult with him about one of the cabinet members from the Ministry before your meeting with Kingsley tomorrow," she said, smile faltering a bit. "He just wanted you to know that he'd be busy this afternoon, but he'd be back tonight so you could discuss it then. I hope this doesn't interfere with your schedule at all. I can try to put the potion in stasis and wait for a more convenient time if it's a problem."

Harry shook his head, "No, not a problem," he said. "My questions can wait until this evening. Thank you for passing along the message."

Her smile returned then, and she took her seat at the other end of the staff table.

 _Harry wanted to scream_.

Instead he calmly finished his juice and excused himself.

oOoOoOo

He spent the day in his office, working through his endless pile of paperwork, meeting with most of the teachers- an endless stream of Professors Weasley, and looking at his pocket watch or casting a discreet  _tempus_  every few minutes.

He skipped dinner, and instead went to his personal quarters to lie on the couch and wait for Severus.

"Are you actually moping, Potter?" a velvety voice drawled, and Harry jolted up to a seated position and glared at the portrait.

"I wasn't moping. I was waiting."

"Waiting for me?" Severus asked, pouring himself a drink.

"No, I was waiting for Father Christmas. He's a bit late this year, but I'm still hoping."

"Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Potter."

Harry sneered. "How did your potion go?"

"A miserable failure," Severus answered, raising his glass.

"So good to hear it was a day well spent."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "You must have had an enjoyable day in Diagon Alley then."

Harry sighed. "Sorry, I just missed you. I was kind of expecting to see you when I got back."

Severus nodded. "I have my own duties to attend to on occasion, Harry. I cannot always be at your beck and call."

"I know." Harry leaned back into the couch and took a drink of his scotch. "The Diagon Alley trip wasn't that bad really. You were right about my mum anyway; she really is incredible."

Severus smiled fondly. "I remember."

"It's just," Harry hedged. "Can I ask you a personal question?"

"I think we've gone past the point where you need permission for such things."

"Okay, then what's the deal with you and her?"

Severus frowned. "The  _deal_? I'm not sure what you mean."

"I saw your memories," Harry explained. "I know that you loved her, but was it just friendship-love, or was it  _love-_ love?"

Severus shook his head chuckling. "Ever so eloquent, as always. Are you telling me that you're jealous of a nine-year-old?"

"No, of course not," Harry lied. "I just want to know what I'm dealing with here. The two of you are good for each other. You should have friends, and I'd rather you didn't have your falling out, but…"

"But, what exactly, Harry?"

Harry shrugged. "If you didn't stop being friends would you have become more than friends? I know you said that there's no way for me to change events to negate my own existence, but I'd rather not try. What was the real reason that you had such a problem with her dating my father? Did you want her for herself?"

"Yes, actually," Severus said, "I did."

"Oh." Harry looked down at his glass for a moment before taking a drink. "So…" Harry said, looking up again. He couldn't actually think of a way to phrase the question he wanted to ask.

Severus rolled his eyes. "I  _am_  gay, Harry. I just didn't know that or hadn't yet accepted the fact when I was seventeen years old. I was raised by a muggle father in a time when such things weren't as widely accepted as they are now. I knew that I loved your mother, so I wanted her to be my girlfriend. Truthfully, I wanted her to be my  _wife_. At the time I didn't understand that there was a difference between loving someone and feeling sexually attracted to them. If I'm not mistaken, your feelings for Ms. Weasley were much the same."

"You're rarely mistaken," Harry agreed. The explanation made him feel better, but he was still a bit worried. "What do you think I should do about it then? I'd rather that you and mum stayed friends, but I don't want you to have some uncomfortable, ill-fated romance either."

Severus smiled. "Perhaps you should make it clear that there are other options."

"What,… like set him up on a date with a boy?"

Severus chuckled. "That's one option I suppose, but, when the time comes, I would suggest you simply have a conversation with him about it."

"A birds and the bees kind of thing?" Harry shuddered at the thought.

"I don't remember my father ever taking the time to do it."

" _Right_."

"You still have a few years before you have to worry about it."

That was a relief actually. When you took the time travel into consideration, it was really twice that. Harry drained his scotch and poured another. He could feel Severus watching him the whole time.

"Now, if you don't mind," Severus said when Harry had once more positioned himself on the couch, "I've had a very trying day, and I'm tired of talking. So, would you please take off that damned robe and make yourself useful."

Harry was more than happy to oblige.

oOoOoOo

-Fall 1969-

The one thing Harry had to look forward to during his weekends in the past was tea with Dumbledore.

He took his diluted aging potion that Saturday as usual and checked himself in the mirror- happy to see a face in its mid-thirties peering back at him instead of one covered in wrinkles. He apparated into the Headmaster's office and found Dumbledore waiting for him with a tea service.

Albus brightened instantly at Harry's appearance.

"Hello, Albus," Harry said, unable to keep from smiling back.

"Have a seat," Albus said, pouring tea. "It's been such a hectic week. I've been looking forward to our tea since Tuesday."

Harry laughed. "Are the students getting all settled in then?"

"As well as can be expected. We always get a few first-years with a bad case of home-sickness, but I had them into my office and we talked it over. They should be fine now."

Harry snorted. "Helps that you spike the tea with cheering potions," he muttered, trying not to laugh.

Dumbledore was flabbergasted. "How could you possibly know that?"

Harry just smiled enigmatically and refused to answer. It was good for the old man to get a taste of his own medicine once in a while. "I've brought you a present," he said instead.

"My dear, Peverell, if I didn't know better, I'd say you were trying to butter me up."

Harry flushed at that and pulled the bag of lemon drops from his pocket. "It's just candy, Albus."

"Appeasing my sweet tooth as well?" Dumbledore smirked. He opened the packet and looked inside at the yellow sweets. "What are these?"

"Lemon drops," Harry said. "They're a muggle candy, but there's a shop in Diagon Alley that carries them. Just try one. I think you'll like them."

Dumbledore popped one into his mouth and made an expression of pleasure that was almost obscene.

"Look, Albus, I.." Harry started uncomfortably, but forced himself to finish. "I think you should know that I'm seeing someone."

The look of pleasure disappeared.

"I just don't want you to get the wrong idea here. I just want to be friends." Harry had allowed the flirting to begin with, reluctantly, but now it was starting to bother him. Somehow it just didn't seem fair.

"I see," Albus said. "You must forgive me then. I feel a bit of a fool."

Harry shook his head, reaching across the table to take Dumbledore's hand in his. "You shouldn't. I do care about you, Albus, but there are reasons I just couldn't feel that way about you."

"You prefer women," Dumbledore said, sounding sure of the fact.

Harry considered allowing him to believe that; it would certainly make things easier, but he just couldn't bring himself to lie. "No," he said, "I prefer men, but we've known each other before, and it would just be too awkward for me to… think about you that way."

Dumbledore laughed at that, and the sound shocked Harry enough to make him jerk his hand back. This only seemed to make him laugh louder. It was a few minutes before Dumbledore was able to get himself under control.

"Oh, you must forgive me," Dumbledore said still laughing a bit. "It's just funny. Here I am throwing myself at you, and all you think of is little Albie Dumbledore running around the village in short-pants chasing the little girls around with a levitated frog."

Harry couldn't think of anything to say to that.


	5. Chapter Five

-Fall 1971-

Harry was walking through his cottage putting things away, closing up and locking all the windows, and readying everything for a long departure. He'd only be away for a few days, but the cottage would have to stand empty for the next nine months. Severus would be leaving for school tomorrow, and Harry didn't want to waste so much time on his daily returns to the past if Severus wouldn't be around to benefit from them. There was really no reason to spend more time here than he had to- not when he had his own Severus to get back to.

The last two years had been surprisingly enjoyable. Under his tutelage, Severus had become a well-rounded and mostly decent young man. There were still some ingrained personality traits that Harry would probably never be able to coax out of the boy, but Harry wasn't entirely sure that he wanted to. If he could somehow make Severus less sarcastic and disagreeable toward the world in general, then he wouldn't ultimately be the man that Harry had fallen in love with anymore. That Severus Snape might be more appreciated by other people, mainly anyone he came into contact with, but would Harry still feel so drawn to him? Somehow he didn't think so.

The boy in question came in then, carrying the milk. That reminded Harry that he should probably cancel his milk delivery and his subscription to the Daily Prophet. He'd have to talk to the post office about holding his post also. He made a mental note of this, and turned his attention to the boy.

"Are you excited to leave tomorrow, or just nervous?" he asked.

"Both, I guess," Severus answered with a shrug. He was looking around the cottage distractedly. "Are you going somewhere?"

"Ah, yes, I wanted to talk to you about that. Have a seat," he took the milk from Severus and gestured to the table. "I'll make the tea today." He started the kettle, and sat across from Severus at the table while he waited for the water to boil.

"So, where are you going?" Severus asked, when he didn't say anything.

"I decided that it might get a bit lonely around here with you and Lily off having adventures at school. My nephew has decided to work on his Defense Against the Dark Arts mastery this year, and has asked if I will tutor him. I have agreed."

"I didn't know you had a nephew."

Harry nodded. "I have a nephew, a niece, and one godson." While Dudley wasn't actually his brother, both Deckland and Lucy both called him 'Uncle Harry,' so this part wasn't technically a lie. The kettle began to whistle then, and Harry rose to start setting out the tea things.

"Well," a look of worry darkened Severus' face. "Will I ever see you again?"

"Not to fret, my dear boy," Harry said. He put one hand on the back of the boy's head to reassure him, but the sudden tactile sensation of having Severus' hair beneath his hand was too much for him. He spent entirely too much time sitting on his couch talking to his portrait, and continuing his almost farcical relationship with someone he could never touch, never feel, and dreaming of what it would be like to run that long black hair through his fingers, cup the man's jaw, and press his lips to the corner of those sarcastic, upturned lips. To suddenly have that hair, surprisingly silky, beneath his hand, real, and tangible, and oh so alive, hurt his heart with a sudden pang. He dropped his hand quickly, offering Severus a reassuring smile: the boy didn't deserve this kind of thing. He was just a child, and the number of times Harry had to remind himself of that was almost disgusting. "I will be back before your summer holidays," he said, "I promise."

This seemed to appease Severus well enough, and the boy grinned before launching into a lengthy one-sided discourse about all the wonders of Hogwarts and how excited he was to finally be going.

Harry was happy enough to listen to him. He sat there, drinking his tea, smiling, and tried not to laugh at the boy's excitement. When his second cup of tea had been finished, and Severus finally paused long enough to eat a biscuit, Harry seized his chance to speak. "Would you take some advice from an old man who still remembers his first day at Hogwarts?"

Severus nodded- mouth still full of biscuit.

"Try not to make any enemies your first day," Harry said.

"Enemies," Severus asked in surprise, wiping away the few crumbs that had fallen out of his mouth and swallowing. "Why would I make any enemies?"

Harry sighed. "Not everyone is always going to like you, Severus. At Hogwarts, there will be people who don't like you just because of what house you get sorted into. Try not to sink to their level. Bullies only bother people that they can get a reaction out of, if you don't rise to their bait, eventually they'll leave you alone."

Severus looked crestfallen. Harry knew what it was like to be bullied, and he also knew what it was like to be offered a new start. He could only imagine how hard it would be to have the hope of that fresh start trampled upon by someone that you trusted. A moment ago Severus had been as excited as a child on Christmas morning, but now Harry had ruined it. He wanted the boy to be prepared for reality, but Severus should still be excited for his first day of school. Whatever else would happen, his life would still be drastically better. After all, being bullied by a few children still had to be better than being ignored by a neglectful mother and kicked around by an abusive father.

Still, maybe there was something Harry could do to help return some of that excitement while still preparing the boy. "Did you bring your wand with? I want to show you something."

"A hex?" Severus asked, pulling out his wand eagerly.

"NO, not a hex, and you shouldn't be casting any hexes at your age anyway." Severus looked disappointed, but Harry ignored that for the time being. He knew how brutal fighting children could be, and the last thing he needed was for some miscast hex to curse his father with infertility. "I'm going to show you a protection spell. It's much more advanced than most eleven-year-olds would be able to handle, but I think you can do it. Anyone who tries to bully you just might be impressed enough to get scared off for good."

Harry pulled out his own wand and cast, "Protego." He demonstrated the shielding spell a few more times before having Severus practice the wand movements and finally try it on his own. Harry was shocked to see a weak shield appear and waver for a few moments before dissipating.

"It didn't work," Severus said, dismayed.

Harry, on the other hand, was so ecstatic over Severus' near success that he wanted to pick the boy up and spin him around the room. He refrained, instead saying, "No, that was great. That was almost unbelievable, Severus. I had hoped that after a few hours of practice you might manage a weak shield like that one. This is an advanced fifth-year spell. But, if you can do that on the first try, I think you'll have it up to full strength in no time."

That earned Harry a rare Severus Snape smile- full blown, crooked grin.

After another hour, Severus had indeed managed a proper shielding spell, and was even able to block the few minor hexes that Harry sent at him to test it. When they were finished, Severus had sweat standing on his brow from the expenditure of magical effort, and Harry had gone to fetch him a glass of lemonade when there was a knock at the door.

Severus went to answer it, and Harry heard Lily's voice through the open door, "Oh, good, you are here. We were just wondering if you wanted to come out to lunch with us, and then we're going to stop by Diagon Alley. I wanted to get a few last minute things before we leave tomorrow."

Harry left the lemonade and went to the door.

"Oh, hello, Mr. Peverell," Lily greeted him. "Can Severus come out and play?" she joked.

Harry spared a glance at the garden gate where Mr. and Mrs. Evens were waiting with a sour-faced Petunia. He only allowed his glance to linger over the grandparents he had never known for a moment before returning his attention to the hopeful children.

"Oh, I think that will be alright. You go ahead, Severus, and I'll get word to your mother so she knows where you are."

Severus smiled, and tucked his wand away. "Thank you. I'd be in big trouble if she found out that I went to London without telling her."

"I imagine you would be," Harry agreed, "but I have to stop by the post office on my way out of town anyway, so it's no trouble."

"You're leaving today then?"

"Yes, I'd best be on my way, so I suppose this is goodbye. Good luck with school. I'm sure you'll do fine; you're both very bright. You must stop by as soon as you get back to tell me all about it."

"We will," Severus said, "and good luck with your nephew." Severus seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then he launched himself into Harry's arms, hugging the old man tightly. Harry was thrown off a step for a moment, but then he hugged back, kissing the top of the boy's head- unable to stop his eyes from watering.

Finally, he let go of the boy and waved him off. "Go on now; don't keep the Evans' waiting, and don't get into too much trouble at Hogwarts. I'll find out about it if you do; I have eyes everywhere."

Severus laughed. "You probably do. Goodbye, Mr. Peverell, and thanks for everything."

"You are very welcome, young master Snape. And you'll look after him, won't you, Ms. Evans?"

"Someone has to," Lilly joked.

Harry waved to them when they reached the garden gate and turned to leave. They waved back, and a moment later they were gone from sight around a bend in the road. Harry wiped the tears from his eyes as he finished securing the house, gathered his things, and apparated outside of Spinner's End.

Harry knocked several times, and was about to leave a note since apparently no one was home, when Eileen answered the door. She only opened it a crack, but Harry could see she looked terrible. Her eyes were red and puffy, underlined by dark crescents, and there was a bruise purpling one of those fine cheekbones.

"Mrs. Snape, are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she said. "What are you doing here, and where is Severus? Has he gotten into some kind of trouble?"

"No," Harry said quickly, "no trouble. The Evans' invited him out to lunch, and I took the liberty of giving him permission. I hope that's okay. I just wanted to stop by to let you know where he would be. Also, I'm going to be out of town for a while, and I thought I should let you know that I'd be gone."

"Yes, that's fine then. Good day, Mr. Peverell."

She began to close the door, but Harry put his hand out to stop her. "I know it's not my place to say anything," he said, "but the way your husband treats you isn't right. I could help you leave him. If it's only money, I have some put away; I could help you get started. Or if you need someone to talk to…"

Eileen's look of exhaustion had been quickly replaced with anger. "I appreciate what you've been doing for my son, Mr. Peverell, but this really isn't any of your business. He is my husband. I agreed to marry him, and I have to deal with the consequences of that decision. He  _is_  my husband and I will give him the respect he deserves, and mind his wishes. It is only in deference to Severus that I have argued with him to begin with. Severus will be going to Hogwarts where he belongs, out of his own best interest, whatever my husband thinks. If I have to disobey Tobias to that end, you can see how he must react. Now, if you'll allow me to bid you good day, I need to finish my housework and prepare dinner for my husband." She didn't allow Harry to respond, slamming the door in his face.

He stood on the front step for a moment, considering trying to get her to the door again. It was so hard for him to grasp the idea that she didn't mind being beaten, and actually thought she deserved it for disobeying her husband. It was such a different world in this decade. Eileen had undoubtedly been raised to believe that men were superior to women- that they were the head of the household, and wives should do whatever they're told. He had heard stories that battered women mostly seemed to accept this, but he just couldn't imagine how any woman who had given birth to Severus Snape would ever subject herself to that kind of abuse, and from a muggle at that. If she wanted to, Eileen could pull out her wand and have her husband completely under her control, but she didn't. Perhaps it was the reason Tobias kept his wife so under his thumb, and why he so forbade magic in his house. Harry didn't think he'd ever completely understand, but he decided to leave it be for now.

oOoOoOo

Harry had taken care of his milk and paper delivery and stopped by the post office to have his mail put on hold. He'd never need to do those types of things before. Now that the order no longer used Grimmauld Place, Kreecher managed everything for him there. He'd never realized how much work it could be, and it made him appreciate the house elf even more- however disagreeable he may be.

Harry arrived for tea in Dumbledore's office then, ready to say his last goodbye.

For the first time, Albus didn't have the tea waiting for him upon his arrival. He didn't even look up from the mound of paperwork on his desk when the pop of apparition announced Harry's presence. Harry had to smile; he knew how much work being Headmaster could be, and he appreciated Dumbledore's distraction.

"Did you forget about me, Albus?" he asked, actually starling the man.

It took Dumbledore a moment to register his presence, but then the man beamed a smile at him, and with a wave of his wand the paperwork disappeared and was replaced with the familiar tea service. "I could never forget about you, dear Peverell. I'm just busier than usual. The students will be here tomorrow night, and there's always a lot of work to be done."

Harry smiled back. "I can imagine." He took a seat across from Dumbledore, and poured tea for them both. "I'll try my best to distract you for a bit; you can use a break. But first, I have a favor to ask."

"Oh?" Dumbledore cocked an eyebrow.

"The boy that I've been tutoring is starting here tomorrow. He should be on your roster. Severus Snape?"

Dumbledore nodded. "Eileen Prince's boy? Yes. He's the one you've been tutoring? With a mother like that, and you for a teacher, he's sure to be an outstanding pupil."

"I'm sure he will be," Harry agreed, "but he doesn't have the best home life, and he's been bullied a little in the neighborhood. He's a bit awkward, and doesn't have the best social skills. I'm worried he might not fit in as well as he should. It takes a lot to get through his shell. Could you watch out for him for me?"

"I certainly watch out for all the students, but of course I can take a special interest in Severus if he is a friend of yours."

"Thank you, Albus. I really appreciate that. Now," Harry smiled, "the World Cup! Who could have expected that upset?" Of course, Harry had known that France would win, but he didn't want Albus to know that, and Quidditch was always a safe subject.

They talked about the game for a while, and discussed the current violence and upheaval in Ireland and whether it would start to spill over into the wizarding world anytime soon. By the time they had finished their tea, Harry was getting ready to leave and suddenly realized that he'd been so engrossed by their conversation that he'd almost forgotten to tell Dumbledore that he was leaving.

"I won't be able to make it to our weekly tea for a while," he said as he stood up. "I have to go back to my own time for a while. Just trust me that I have to be away, and know that I will miss you, and I'll be back as soon as I can. You'll see me in June at the very latest."

"I suppose I'll have to do without you for a while then," Dumbledore accepted. "I will miss you more than you will miss me, I think. It's been a long time since I've had anyone to talk to that I really considered an equal. It sounds a bit pompous of me to say, but it's the truth. Gellert was probably the last, and you know what happened to him."

"I don't actually," Harry said, "not all of it, anyway. Maybe you could tell me someday?"

"Someday," Dumbledore agreed, looking sad now, "but not today. Enjoy your trip home, Peverell. I hope you won't forget about me."

"I'll see you in June," Harry promised again. He walked around the desk then, and kissed Dumbledore on the cheek. "Don't get any ideas now," he teased. "That was just a goodbye kiss. It didn't mean anything."

"I've long given up hope of that," Dumbledore said, laughing. "I've moved on anyway. I've found a nice young muggle to keep my bed warm, and he has the most  _amazing_ -"

"I don't want to know," Harry said quickly, cutting him off. He pulled out his time-turner, allowing Dumbledore to see the device for the first time. "I'll see you in June. Remember to keep an eye on Severus for me, and enjoy your muggle's amazing  _whatever._ " He smirked and flipped the tiny hour glass, disappearing before Dumbledore could say another word.

-February 2005-

Harry reappeared in almost the exact same place in his own time. The same office thirty-four years later, and if he didn't know what he was looking for he might have said nothing had changed, but there was Albus' portrait on the wall, and a few new knick knacks in the case, and the air smelled differently. He tried to ignore that last thought as he walked through into his quarters.

Severus' was gone, though he'd been in his frame beside the fireplace when Harry had left yesterday, or thirty seconds ago, depending on how you counted. For some reason, Severus had made a habit of disappearing down to the dungeons the moment Harry left, and Harry had yet to figure out why. Of course, now he had his own projects to occupy his time. Portrait or not, Severus Snape was the most stubborn man Harry had ever known, and not even death could make him stay idle for long. He'd somehow managed to convince Professor Bianco to let him offer tutoring sessions to her N.E.W.T. students that were considering a Mastery in Potions. After all the complaining Severus had done about what a bunch of dunderheads his students were, Harry couldn't understand why he was so adamant about continuing to teach, but Harry assumed he got bored just sitting around all day.

Harry took a seat at the desk in the corner of the room. The desk in his office was as covered with paperwork as Dumbledore's had been, but that desk was for work. His personal desk in his quarters was more like a work bench. It had screwdrivers and spanners instead of quills, and various small parts and screws in the inkwell instead of ink. He brushed aside a few pieces of Quidditch gear and a wireless radio that he'd been mending and laid out the time-turner instead. It was a lengthy process to adjust the device to change the point to which it was tethered. He needed to set it ahead by nine months without moving the location to which it was bound. Harry had done some work on the occasional snitch, which was like magically changing out the clockwork on a pocket watch. This was a bit like that, but twice as small, a hundred times more intricate, and with at least a dozen gears and sprockets that existed in an entirely different plane of existence. He needed absolute concentration.

"You might not want to do that quite yet," Severus said, startling Harry and making the hand that held his micro-forceps over the time-tuner's mechanical insides twitch.

"Damn it, Severus!" Harry carefully set the time-turner down after inspecting it to ensure that no damage had been done. "I thought you were down in the dungeons," he said, looking up at the frame over his desk where Severus was looking down at him.

In the two years since they'd begun their relationship, Harry had transformed his walls into everything a painted man could dream for. Severus had dozens of canvases hanging all over their quarters. Some of them were just copies of Harry's furniture. Some contained food or other items Severus might want: cigarettes when the situation called for them, (there was no point in preserving the health of someone who was already dead, and it wasn't like Harry could taste smell his breath or taste it on his lips,) changes of clothing, books, a potion lab, anything Severus could think of. Now he could travel freely around Harry's quarters as he wished and occupy himself in the same space when Harry was busy.

The frame above Harry's desk held a painting of another desk- this one done from a photograph of the Headmaster's desk in Harry's office. Severus leaned against the front of it, looking down at Harry.

"Everyone is at dinner," he said. "I just went to check on a potion in case Bianco forgot to reduce the heat to a simmer while she was eating. She ruined the last one. Don't reset your time-turner yet though, you might change your mind. I need to talk to you about something."

Harry set down the forceps then and frowned at Severus. "I thought you were on board with all this. You're not going to try to convince me to stop are you?"

"No, you're fully committed, and I won't dissuade you from that. However, since you don't seem to have done any research into my past, save what you'd already learned from my memories, there's probably something you should know."

"What do you mean?"

"I assume that you intend to return in June for the summer holidays, correct?"

"Yeah. There's no sense in hanging around if you're off at school. It will go faster if I just skip ahead to the summer holidays."

"It will, but you need to return over the Christmas holidays also."

"Is that really all that important?" Harry asked. "You'll only be home for a week, and I'm sure you'll be busy with your family, so it's not like I'd be able to spend any time with you anyway."

"He'll need you," Severus urged again.

"But, why?"

Severus sighed. "He will need you, because Eileen Snape committed suicide on the morning of December 23rd of 1971, just as her son would have been boarding the Hogwarts express to return home for the Christmas holidays."

Harry swallowed thickly. "I thought that you were older when she died, and you never told me that it was suicide."

"I don't enjoy talking about it, but you should be there to help him through it. Tobias will blame him. I don't need to tell you what will happen then."

"No, but," Harry was shaking his head back and forth slowly, having a hard time processing this information, "isn't there something I can do to help? There must be some way to stop her; I could save her. No boy should lose his mother that young, and certainly not when it can be prevented."

"Don't change it," Severus said. "It was her choice to make. I eventually came to accept that choice- even if I still think that it was a cowardly one. I hated her for doing it, taking the easy way out, and I understand now that it was the only thing that stayed my own hand on a few occasions. Hating my mother for her suicide saved my life. If you save her, you may be condemning me. It's your choice, of course, but I would advise against taking any actions to prevent her death."

Harry knew that he'd rather see Eileen dead and buried than risk the failure of his mission, but that didn't make it any easier to swallow. "I'll have to think about it."

Severus nodded. "I wasn't going to say anything. I could have just let it happen, and you wouldn't have known about it until it was too late, but I don't want him to be alone for all of that.  _I_ don't want to go through that alone."

"Okay," Harry said. A few moments ago he'd been in a good mood, now he wanted to cry for Severus' loss. He found himself halfway to the liquor cabinet before he even realized that he'd rose from his chair. He poured a glass anyway and sat on the couch. Severus had moved to his portrait above the fireplace.

"I guess I don't have to do it right away," Harry said finally. "I can wait a few days before I go back, I might need some time to wrap my brain around all of this. I just talked to her today."

Severus nodded. "I'm in no hurry to have you leave again."

"I should fetch him from the train, I suppose. He won't want to find out in front of Lily, and I'd like to be the one to tell him. I can't imagine that Tobias will care much for the boy's feelings. Will he even know how to get onto the platform?"

"Probably not," Severus agreed. "You should go speak to him after the ambulance leaves. You may need to threaten him to put him in line- make it clear that you'll handle things where the boy is concerned from that moment forward."

Harry nodded. "I think I'd actually enjoy threatening your father."

"I won't say that I didn't enjoy killing him."

Harry's eyes widened at this admission, though he'd always assumed as much, he was still surprised to hear Severus confess it openly.

"It was how I was initiated into the Death Eaters," Severus explained. "That was the highlight of my service to the Dark Lord; things went pretty steadily downhill from there."

Harry didn't reply to that. His mind was reeling from this new flood of information, and he would certainly need time to process it all. But, maybe if he could convince Tobias Snape to treat his only child the way that a father should treat his son instead of as a human punching-bag, Harry could save Severus from becoming a Death Eater. If saving Tobias' life was the price he had to pay for keeping Severus from that fate, he could probably learn to live with the idea.

"I don't like any of this," Harry said finally, setting his glass down.

"No," Severus agreed, "it wars with your general need to save everyone, but it won't be the hardest choice you have to make before this is all over."

Harry knew that was true. Eventually he would have to stand by and watch his parents die and see himself carted off to the Dursleys, or else try to save them and condemn Neville Longbottom to a life of danger and sacrifice. He wasn't eager to accept either fate without a fight.

Harry sighed. "Maybe it was a mistake to start any of this to begin with."

"I tried to save you from it," Severus pointed out, "but you're too stubborn to ever be dissuaded from anything."

Harry laughed- a harsh sound barely discernable from a sob. "I should win some kind of award or a title for being called stubborn by you."

"Harry Potter, savior of the wizarding world" Severus intoned, "The Boy-Who-Lived-To-Defeat-The-Dark-Lord-And-Become-Even-More-Stubborn-Than-Severus-Snape. I'll have the house elves make up a placard."

oOoOoOo

-December 23rd-

-1971-

Harry stood on the street outside Spinner's End, an old man looking out of place in a voluminous woolen cloak, and watched the ambulance pull away with its sirens turned off. He waited until it was out of sight before he approached the house. He didn't knock on the door, just pushed his way in past Eileen's quickly deteriorating wards, braced for a fight.

What he found instead, was Tobias Snape sitting at the kitchen table, sobbing, with blood on his hands. Harry immediately wilted at the open display of emotion.

"Mr. Snape?" He called, trying to get the man's attention.

"Who are you?" he asked, voice cracking.

"I'm Mr. Peverell from the cottage at the end of the lane. I'm the one that's been tutoring Severus for the last couple of years." Tobias made some kind of noise in the back of his throat; it may have been a snort. Harry assumed that Mr. Snape must have at least known where his son was going then. "I was just wondering if perhaps you would like me to pick Severus up off the train. I'm sure you'll be busy with the funeral arrangements, and I could try to explain what happened, if you want."

"My wife is dead, you old poof, what do I give a fuck what you do with the boy?" he snarled through his tears. "She killed herself the day he was set to come home. What do you think that proves? My wife killed herself so she didn't have to see her own son."

"You know that Severus didn't have anything to do with this. You're clearly upset, so I'll let that slide for now, but after the funeral we are going to have a conversation about the welfare of your son."

"What I do with my son, is my business."

"And how you choose to discipline him?" Harry demanded. "The way that you disciplined your wife?"

"Spare the rod, spoil the child," Tobias said dazedly, in a sing-song voice, clearly too wracked by grief to have the argument Harry was really looking for.

"We'll talk about this later," Harry repeated, "but I intend to see that Severus continues his education and that he is well cared for. Now that your wife is dead, Severus is the only family you have left. You should try to remember that."

He left then, not wanting to spend any more time in that house. He went to King's Cross. The train wouldn't be there for a few hours still, but Harry needed time to think.

oOoOoOo

Harry scanned the groups of students getting off the train looking for Severus. It was actually Lily that he saw first. Her red hair had a way of standing out in a crowd. Severus followed a few steps behind her, impressively levitating both of their trunks. He was smiling and looking around for his mother, and Harry felt the lead weight in the bottom of his stomach gain a couple pounds.

He waited to approach the boy until Lily had found her own parents, given Severus a quick hug, and rushed off.

"Mr. Peverell," Severus said, clearly both shocked and pleased to see him. "I thought you weren't going to be back until June. What are you doing here? Where's my mum?"

"Something has happened, Severus, we should find somewhere to talk." Harry took care of Severus' trunk, putting it away in his pocket, and led him through the station until he found a quiet place to sit.

"What's going on?" Severus demanded when they sat down.

Harry sighed. "There's no easy way to tell you this, Severus. Your mother died this morning."

Severus' face went blank for a moment, sadness creeping in slowly as he processed the information. "How?" he asked in a small voice.

"It was suicide," Harry told him. The boy would find out eventually, and if Harry had stepped back and let it happen in order to save Severus from the same fate, then the boy had to know what had actually happened. There was no sense in trying to hide it from him.

Severus only nodded. His face had gone blank again. Harry had expected this, and knew that Severus would most likely shut himself off from the rest of the world, pull his defenses in tight around him, until he had managed his own grief in private.

"Do you want me to take you to your father?"

"NO," Severus' blank expression flickered for a moment, showing a brief flash of the anguish he must be hiding, but it was back again just as quickly. "No, I'd rather not go home right now," he said, calm again.

"You're welcome to come home with me for now," Harry offered, "or, I'm sure you could stay with Lily's family.

"I'll go with you," Severus agreed, "until after the funeral, if it's alright. He won't notice I'm even gone until then, but I'll have to face him after. He'll never let me go back to Hogwarts with mum gone. I'll have to convince him."

"I don't think it will be that hard," Harry said. "I'll talk to him, and no matter what happens, I'll see you returned to school."

Severus looked up at him, and for just a moment, Harry saw a look of complete trust on the face of Severus Snape, and he thought that there just might be hope left in the world. "Do you promise?" the boy asked.

"I do," Harry said.

oOoOoOo

Harry remained in the past for the next week, getting Severus through the ordeal of Christmas in the aftermath of his mother's death, and the funeral that followed. It wasn't until after the small quiet service, as they stood together in the small graveyard, that Tobias Snape finally seemed to remember that he had a son.

"Come on then, boy," he said, ignoring Harry completely. "She's buried now, so it's over. We'll have a few drinks to see her off."

"I'm not sure that's a good idea, Mr. Snape." Harry said, drawing Tobias' attention away from his son. "Perhaps Severus should stay with me for a few days more. If you need a few drinks, I'm the last one to judge, but that's the kind of thing a man shouldn't do in front of his son."

"Who are you to tell me how to raise my son, old man?"

"I may be old, but I'm more powerful now than you will ever be. Your wife might have been afraid to use magic on you, but be assured that  _I_  am not. If I find out that you've ever laid a finger on Severus in violence ever again, be assured that I will return it upon you tenfold."

This threat didn't seem to have any effect at all, so Harry tried again. "I will not hesitate to kill you, if I believe it is necessary to get this message through your thick skull. I have it on good authority that this would not be an unpleasant experience. Do you understand me, Mr. Snape? I would hate to have to hurt you because I'm being unclear. I'll try putting it another way, shall I? If you hit your son ever again, I'll break your legs. If you manage it again from a wheelchair, I'll make sure you rot in the ground beside your wife."

"You have some kind of nerve, old man," Tobias said. His huge form towered above Harry, trembling with anger, but Harry just stood his ground and pulled his wand from his sleeve.

"Do I need to give you a demonstration?" he asked.

Tobias barked out laughter, and with a quick motion Harry had never expected, took the wand from Harry's hand. Harry just stared at him for a moment in shock. He'd never actually been disarmed in such a way before, and had never suspected it. His magically aged hands hadn't had the strength to resist.

"Not so tough without your little stick, are you now, old man?" Tobias asked, gloating.

Severus took out his own wand and tried to hand it to Harry, but Harry pushed it back. "Put that away, Severus, I don't need it."

"You're very clever, Mr. Snape. Unfortunately, I'm not as dependent upon my wand as some are." Harry just smiled at him, and suddenly he was thrown back through the air, and Harry's wand sailed back in a smooth arc to his hand. "Still, I like to have it."

"Now," he said as Tobias rose to his feet, momentarily cowed. "Severus is going to stay with me until he returns to school. You can go home and drown yourself in the contents of your liquor cabinet for all I care, but if you ever want to have I healthy relationship with your son, I suggest you seek some counseling. Now that Eileen is dead, you need to learn how to be a better father. You'll have almost five months to figure out what that means. I hope that's enough time."

Harry didn't give the man a chance to respond. He took Severus' hand in his, and apparated both of them back to the cottage.

oOoOoOo

-February 2005-

Harry was ready to take a month off from time travel when he finally got home. He had seen Severus onto the train that morning, and then popped in on Dumbledore to fill him in on what was going on. Of course, then he'd learned from Albus that, while Severus had been an excellent student, scoring top marks in all of his subjects, he had indeed begun a feud with the Gryffindor first-year boys. It seemed that you couldn't dull Snape's tongue any more than you could change a tiger's stripes- which of course you could do if you were a wizard, so Snape's sarcasm even superseded the old adage.

Harry was starting to worry that he didn't have a chance to change Severus' destiny. If he was still fighting with the Marauders, maybe he hadn't matured as much as Harry had thought.

"How did it go?" Severus asked the moment he walked through the door.

"You ought to know," Harry snapped at him.

"Yes, but I'd still like to hear what you think."

"I think this is all pointless," Harry grumbled. He didn't waste time fighting the inevitable, and went to pour himself a drink in hopes of improving his mood. "I've been gone a week this time, you know," Harry told him, pacing in front of the fireplace and sipping at his scotch. "It felt like a year." He paused in front of the portrait. "I missed you. It would have been nice to be able to talk to someone about what was going on."

"I was there."

Harry waved that idea off. "A child. How am I supposed to talk to a child about the fact that I feel conflicted about standing aside and watching his mother die, when I might have been able to prevent it, because it might,  _maybe_ , someday save him from doing himself in, and I want him to be around later so I might have a chance to suck his cock."

"Don't be crude, Harry. Anyway, you know that's not the reason you're doing any of this."

"Oh, what is the reason then, because I think I must have forgotten?"

"You're doing this, because you're the one person who saw something worth saving in the bitter man who grew out of that neglected boy."

"Maybe if you had ever opened up and trusted anyone, people might have actually wanted you around."

"I trusted you."

"Look where that's gotten me," Harry snapped. "Here I am, obsessed with my dead love, consumed with work, and turning to alcohol like it's the cure to all my problems." He set the glass of scotch down in disgust. "I've turned into you. You do realize that, don't you?"

"The thought has crossed my mind, but only for a moment. You will never be like me, Harry. You can't be- you care too much."

Harry sighed. "Maybe that's my problem."

"Perhaps, but it's also your saving grace. Don't give up on hope, Harry. You can't, not when it's all you have."

"I have more than hope," he said. "I have you."

Severus raised his painted hand and looked at it for a moment. "And what am I, save the embodiment of all your hopes?"

Harry couldn't find a way to argue that point, and he picked up his glass again.

 


	6. Chapter Six

-June 1972-

"You're a bit late," Harry said, looking up when Severus rushed in the door.

"I just got held up."

Harry was sitting at the table with his tea. He'd made it himself this morning and had been disappointed to find that for some reason it didn't taste quite right. He supposed that he'd started to get used to the way that Severus made it, and suspected that he had added too much milk. He put down the cup and scanned the boy with narrowed eyes as Severus plopped into the chair across from him. Harry saw no sign of visible bruises, but even in the middle of summer, Severus tended to keep himself pretty well covered up. Harry made a mental note to ask the portrait how much of his dress-sense revolved around hiding bruises and scars. Still, while there were no signs of physical abuse, Severus' eyes looked red and puffy like he'd been crying.

"Quid pro quo," Harry said finally, knowing it was the only way he'd get any answers from the boy.

But, it seemed that Severus had been waiting for this too, because he had his own questions he wanted answered. "Are you related to James Potter?"

That stopped Harry's heart cold. "What would make you think that?" Severus had started on a continual tirade over how much he hated the Gryffindor first-year boys in general, and James and Sirius in particular, the moment he'd returned for the summer holidays. Harry, in an attempt to save Severus from escalating their feud, had preached understanding and tolerance. Perhaps he'd been too quick to defend his father.

"You have to answer before you can ask a question," Severus reminded.

"I just don't understand what would make you think that I'm related to someone you seem to hate so much," Harry defended. "I probably am, incidentally. Most old wizarding families are all related to each other, and the Potter family is almost as old as mine. Now, why do you ask?"

"Professor Slughorn asked how I had become so good at potions, and I told him that you'd been teaching me. He seemed to think that the Peverell family was long dead. He said that, as far as he knew, the Potters were the only ones who could even trace their lineage directly back to a Peverell."

"Well," Harry said, wishing he hadn't thought to be so  _damned_  clever in claiming a surname that he had some actual right to, "that explains the possible relationship between our families, but, while I'm quite old, you can see that I'm not dead yet. As far as I am aware, I am the last living member of the Peverell line."

"But, you said that you spent last year teaching your  _nephew_."

"Yes, but he's more of an honorary nephew, my cousin's son- related through my mother's side of the family. So, my nephew is not a Peverell."

Severus frowned, thinking through that. "Fine, but I still don't like it. Potter is an idiot. I don't see how he can possibly be related to you, even distantly."

Harry tried very hard not to laugh at that assessment. "I believe it's my turn to ask a question now. Why were you late this morning?"

"I woke up late."

Harry sighed. Trying to get information out of Severus Snape was like pulling teeth, but he knew better than to ask for more information before Severus had his turn. It was no wonder why he had made such a good spy.

"Where do you go every Friday?"

"I'm not sure what you mean."

Severus rolled his eyes. "Every Friday afternoon, after you practically push me out the door, I get halfway to the gate and I can hear you apparate. It's so loud that I could probably hear it halfway down the lane. You must be going to Timbuktu for how loud it is. It can't be anything but continental apparition."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Harry said. "I go to Scotland on Fridays to have tea."

Severus narrowed his eyes. "You're lying. If you're going to lie, then I don't want to play this game."

"I assure you that I am not lying."

"Fine, but I think we should brew veritaserum today."

"No."

Severus pouted.

"Don't give me that look. A twelve-year-old boy has no business learning to brew veritaserum- particularly one who could probably actually manage it. Anyway, I thought you wanted to work on your wandwork today."

Severus shrugged.

"Perhaps we can brew a mild truth serum instead. One that doesn't compel the drinker to speak- only ensures that they are truthful when they do."

Severus considered this for a moment and nodded. "That will do."

Harry sipped his tea. "I won't waste my question asking you why you want it, since I probably don't want to know the answer. Why are your eyes all red?"

"I didn't sleep well last night." Severus actually had the gall to smirk. "Who do you have tea with in Scotland?"

"A friend," Harry said, smirking back. "Why didn't you sleep well last night?"

Severus hesitated for a moment, and then said, "The house was too noisy. Who is your friend in Scotland that you have tea with?"

Harry considered trying to draw it out a little longer, but instead answered, "Albus Dumbledore. I apologize for the noise, but it takes a great expenditure of magical energy to apparate past Hogwarts' wards." This earned him a shocked expression from Severus, and he had to smile. "Now, what was causing the noise in your house last night which caused you to have a hard time falling asleep, and resulted in your turning up at my home late with reddened eyes?"

"I don't want to play this game anymore."

"Do I need to have another conversation with your father?"

Severus looked mortified. "Please don't."

"Unless you tell me what's going on, I must. I won't have him harassing you again."

Severus shook his head. "It's not like that. He's not… Not as much as before anyway. It's just…" Severus squeezed his eyes shut tight and hung his head in defeat. He mumbled something so quietly that Harry's old ears never would have had a hope of hearing.

"What did you say?"

Severus sighed and looked up defiantly. "He brought a woman home last night, okay?"

"I see," Harry said, chuckling.

"It's not funny," Severus spat back, looking humiliated. "It was horrible."

Harry rose to his feet and walked around the table, placing a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder, and, for once, not wanting to weep at this small contact. "I'm afraid the truth serum will have to wait, my boy. Today I will teach you the fine art of silencing charms. Which, I'm sorry to say, will probably prove quite invaluable to you."

oOoOoOo

-July 1972-

"Are you off to see Dumbledore again?" Severus asked as he was gathering his things, late that Friday evening. "He won't be angry with me for you being late, will he?"

Harry chuckled. "I am, and he won't. We did good work today, Severus. Thank you for staying to help finish our potion."

"It didn't work though," Severus said. He still looked disappointed for the failure of their experimental antivenin potion.

"We learn more from our mistakes than we do our successes," Harry told him. "We can try again next week. I know an excellent Potions Master, and I'm sure I can pester him for a few suggestions on improving our approach. Will your father be angry that you're late coming home?"

Severus glanced at his watch. "He'll still be down at the pub, but I'm going to have to rush to get his dinner ready before he gets home, or there will be hell to pay."

Harry frowned at that. He'd been carefully monitoring Severus for the manifestation of any bruises or signs of abuse, but so far had found no evidence that Tobias Snape had done anything more than yell at the boy. His new girlfriend seemed to be keeping him distracted enough to leave Severus alone for the most part. Emotional abuse left its own kind of mark on a person, but all Harry could do about that was to show Severus that, whatever his father may think of him, there were still people who cared.

Harry fished in his pocket and pulled out a couple of five pound notes. "Here," he said, handing the money to Severus. "Buy something to eat for both of you from the stand around the corner. It's my treat to say thank you for staying late to help."

Severus smiled at him. "Thanks, Mr. Peverell. Tell the headmaster that I said hello."

Harry nodded and saw the boy out the door. He took the proper aging potion and changed his robes- the ones he was wearing smelled of potion fumes. He let out a yawn as he pulled out his wand. It really was getting late, but he didn't think Dumbledore would mind the hour, so he apparated to the headmaster's office of Hogwarts.

oOoOoOo

The sudden arrival of a strange man into undoubtedly one of the most secure rooms in Britain seemed to have caused the Minister of Magic to go into an almost catatonic state of befuddlement.

"Oh, hello, Peverell," Albus greeted. "I had assumed that you had decided to forgo your visit this week in light of recent events."

Harry glanced over at the minister who was still gaping at him and then back to Dumbledore. "I'm sorry, but I'm not sure what recent events you're referring to. I've been locked in the lab with Severus all day working on a new potion."

"Ah, well from what the minister has been telling me, it seems that the IRA has done a pretty thorough job of completely decimating the city of Belfast. I'm told they've set off twenty-five bombs. Is that correct minister?"

"Twenty-six," he said softly, still a bit dazed.

"Ah, twenty-six bombs, eleven people have been killed, and I suppose that must be counted as a mercy considering the scale of the damage done."

"What's being done to help?" Harry asked.

"This is a muggle affair," the minister said firmly, coming out of his stupor. "It's no business of ours, and the muggles should be left to sort through the rubble themselves."

"Are we to pretend then that there are no wizards living in Belfast?" Dumbledore asked.

"I will be issuing an official statement tonight: advising all members of the wizarding community remaining in Ireland to evacuate until this situation sorts itself out. Assistance shall be offered for any in need of it."

"Any  _wizards_  in need of it," Dumbledore clarified, "And what about the muggle-born witches and wizard not old enough to have entered Hogwarts or register a wand?"

"Those who have been identified as possessing the magical gift will of course be taken care of."

"And those who are as yet  _unidentified_?" Dumbledore demanded.

"I can't see how we can possibly do anything for them, Albus. This is not our war to fight."

"And so, you would advise that we sit back and watch the world burn around us, even when we have the power to help, because it is simply  _not our problem_."

"Don't put words in my mouth, Albus," the Minister snapped.

"You seem to be doing a good job of that yourself," Dumbledore said, "and you may be assured that there will be an emergency meeting of the Wizengamot tomorrow to fully discuss the repercussions of your inaction."

"Abraxas Malfoy-" the Minister started, but Dumbledore cut him off.

"Abraxas Malfoy is only interested in his own political gain. If you fall out of favor, be assured that you will no longer have his support. And, he is not the Chief Warlock of the Winzengamot,  _I am._  The power to call you to trial rests with me. I suggest that you take this into consideration before you make your  _official statement_."

"Be careful who you try to control, Albus," the minister said. He gave Harry a look of disgust. "I know how to exploit your  _weaknesses_  too." With that, he turned in a huff and stormed out of the room.

Dumbledore turned to Harry and sighed. "I'm sorry you had to see that, Peverell. I fear that we're on the verge of another political upset in the Ministry." He tried on a smile, but it looked feigned. "I am glad to see you though. What do you say we forego the tea in deference to the hour and try something stronger for a change?"

"Sounds like music to my ears," Harry agreed.

Dumbledore poured them each a tumbler of brandy and they sat down.

"I knew that the situation in Ireland was bad, but I hadn't realized that things had escalated so quickly," Harry said, sipping his brandy and coughing a bit at the unexpected sweetness.

"Where have you been?" Dumbledore asked.

Harry had to laugh at that. "A long way past the realm of current events, I guess," he admitted.

Dumbledore snorted. "I guess that's fair."

"Abraxas Malfoy somehow managed to get poor Nobby Leach to resign and get that idiot," he gestured to the way the minister had left, "installed in his place. Now he's leading a faction of other idiots that actually support these riots- on the premise that muggles killing other muggles can only be to the benefit of the pure-blood wizarding race. If I can't find some way to put a cap on all that lunacy, I fear that we'll be back to where we were ten years ago- pure-bloods and muggle-borns and squibs all marching and rioting in the streets." Dumbledore let out a long, tired sigh. "Please, let's not talk about all of that right now. Tell me how things are going with young Severus."

Harry paused for a moment, unsure if he really ought to change the subject with something so important hanging in the air, but decided that perhaps Albus would benefit from a break in his political strategizing. "He sends his regards. I think that he's become a better potioneer at twelve than I will ever be, but we're still not having any luck with the potion we're working on."

"He is a very talented boy," Dumbledore agreed. "If he manages to get his temper under control, he'll have a very promising future ahead of him."

"I think you can blame his father for the temper," Harry said, "and I am working on that also."

"But tell me, why on earth are you working on an antivenin for basilisk bites? It's an interesting experiment to be sure, but it hardly has any practical applications. There hasn't been a basilisk alive in a century. Do you mean to take the potion back with you if you succeed? Perhaps it is the reason you're here at all. Do you have some loved-one you mean to save from a basilisk bite? If so, I must commend you upon your most interesting choice of friends."

Harry shook his head. "I'm not walking into that one, Albus, so quit smirking, and drink your brandy."

"Aha," Dumbledore said, smirk only widening and eyes twinkling.

oOoOoOo

-April 2005-

"What are you doing?" Severus asked. He'd just returned from his tutoring session with his pre-master students and found Harry sprawled out on the couch with parchment scraps of notes and potion texts covering the table in front of him.

"The antivenin potion didn't work. I'm trying to figure out what we should try next."

"Do you want some help?"

Harry looked up at him for the first time. "You mean, you're actually offering instead of just insulting my intelligence?"

"If I did that, I would be insulting myself as well. Even if I was twelve at the time, it's my failure too."

Harry snorted and said, "Fair enough." He gathered up his couple pages of notes and brought them over to the portrait, holding them up patiently for Severus to read.

"I'm actually impressed," Severus said finally. "This is a fair start, but what are you using for the base? I didn't see any results from your venom sample."

"Where the hell am I going to get a basilisk venom sample?"

Severus glowered at him. "I take it all back, you're an idiot."

Harry frowned. "The one in the chamber has been dead for what… ten years? Will the venom still be there? Would it be good?"

"Certainly not, but you don't need to resort to harvesting venom from a dead snake, now do you?"

Harry wanted to smack himself in the forehead. "The basilisk isn't dead in 1972, and I can just go ask it for a sample."

"Indeed."

"Okay," Harry admitted. "You're right, I am an idiot."

Severus' face softened. "You're not an idiot. You just have too many plates in the air."

Harry snorted. "Who are you, and what have you done with my boyfriend?"

Severus grimaced. "Boyfriend? Really, Potter, is that necessary?"

Harry shrugged and smirked at him. "Well, it's not like I can tell anyone, so what difference does it make." He went back to the couch and plopped down into the cushions, stretching out. "Hermione keeps trying to set me up when I'm not paying attention. She seems to think I'm closing myself off from the rest of the world because I never go out."

"She may have a point."

Harry frowned. "What do you mean? Do you want me to date other men?"

"No, I most certainly do not, but you should go out with your friends once in a while. It isn't good for you to let your life revolve so completely around one person."

"Hypocrite," Harry accused. "Anyway, between you, and work, and everything else, when would I find the time? In the past, as soon as you leave for the day, I have nothing to do. It's even worse on the weekends, but here." Harry shrugged. "It's like a never ending race to keep ahead of my workload just so I can find some time to spend with you before I leave again."

"Make the time, Harry. I can spare you for one night, and I'll still be here when you get back. Where else could I go?"

Harry heaved a sigh. "Maybe the idea of going out with my friends and listening to them talk about how happy they are with their significant others, and hearing how fast their children are growing, when I can't tell them about any of the important things happening in my own life, just doesn't hold much appeal."

Severus nodded. "So, maybe you should tell them."

Harry gaped at him. "They'd have me carted off to St. Mungo's to share a room with Lockheart before I even finished explaining."

"Your friends have been through a lot with you, maybe you should give them a bit more credit. Hermione helped you to reinvent that time-turner you wear around your neck, not to mention developing the aging potions you take every day. She must have some idea of what you're up to. I'm surprised that she hasn't demanded any answers from you yet."

"I made her promise not to ask any questions," Harry said, "and she's busy with her own life. They're planning their second child already."

"And no doubt another half-dozen to follow," Severus sniped, "But that doesn't change the fact that you're their friend, and they would want you to tell them what's going on- even if only to try to convince you that you're making a mistake."

"And they  _would_ ," Harry told him. "Ron would bluster and curse, and Hermione would get that sad look in her eye and say, ' _Oh, Harry_.' I don't need any of that."

"Maybe that's exactly what you need."

"I thought you were done trying to talk me out of this?"

Severus sighed. "This isn't about that. Maybe I was wrong when I said that you could never turn into me. I spent most of my life hiding away from the world. I had my reasons just like you have yours, but I regret it."

Harry looked at him, unsure of what to say. "If this actually works, we might have a chance to fix that though. Don't you see that?"

"I do, but I would rather die again than see you sacrifice your life for mine- not when everything I did was in an attempt to protect you."

Harry hadn't really thought about it that way before. "You're making me sound ungrateful. I'm not trying to throw away what you've given me, and I do realize what it cost you. I'm just trying to give you something back. I'm trying to  _thank_  you."

"Thank me by learning from my mistakes," Severus said.

"You're telling me to get out there and live my life, not to throw it away over someone who's dead, but you still want me to come home to you?" Harry asked, just to clarify. "Don't you think that's a little contradictory?"

Severus shrugged. "Despite any efforts I've made to steer you away from this course, this is the course that you're on, and I think you should see it through, but you should also be prepared to fail. If you do fail, you'll have a choice to make at the end of all of this, and I want you to move on. I want you to let it go. In the meantime, I want you to stop locking yourself away in these rooms every time that you are in the present."

"Does what I want make any difference?"

"Oh course," Severus said. "Only you can dictate your own actions. I'm only telling you what I think. Lately, that hasn't been entirely directed by logic, but there's no help for that."

Harry sighed and leaned back into the couch again. "Okay, you've made your point then, and I'll take it under advisement. Just let me get through the next month, and then I'll take a week off after Christmas. I will make some time for Ron and Hermione."

Severus nodded.

"But, I'm still not going to tell them about you."

"That is your decision, and maybe it's for the best."

"For now anyway," Harry agreed. "Maybe when this is all over, I'll try to explain to them why you're suddenly back to stalking around the dungeons like an overgrown bat. That might be easier to do than explaining why we're sharing a bed."

"You seem awfully sure of yourself, Potter. What makes you think that you'll be able to win my affections so easily a second time. If I'm alive, I might have more appealing options."

Harry raised an eyebrow at him. "I've won  _Witch Weekly's_  sexiest man of the year contest every year since I was seventeen. Exactly how many better offers do you think you're likely to get?"

Severus scowled. "You should know by now that your fame has never held any interest for me."

"Is that why you bring it up so often?"

"You're just like your father," Severus grumbled.

Now Harry scowled. "Take that back, I was only teasing you."

"Something your father never ceased to find enjoyment in."

"You know that this isn't like that. I tease you because I like you, not because I dislike you. I've done everything I can to try to make my father and his friends leave you alone, but you never seem to give any credence to my advice. I can't help you when you won't help yourself."

"If you had any idea of what your father was like, you would realize that there wasn't anything I could have done to make him any less of a complete and total arse where I was concerned."

Harry sighed. "Maybe you're right, but I can't help how he treats you, I can only advise you on how best to react to him. If you don't take my advice, I can't help you."

"You don't understand."

"What I don't understand is you," Harry snapped. "A moment ago you were actually being  _nice_  to me, and there are times where I think that you really are a good person deep down at heart and you've just been misunderstood your whole life, but then you say something like that. You're right, I don't know what my father was like, because I never knew my father, and every father-figure I ever had either abused, abandoned, or manipulated me. To say that I'm just like my father when all you have are negative feelings for him isn't fair."

"You're right," Severus said, sighing. "I apologize."

"What is it then?" Harry demanded. "Why are you suddenly harping on this?"

"I am not harping on anything," Severus said calmly. "I made an offhand comment and you took it personally. I have apologized; now can we move past it?"

"I'm not sure that we can," Harry said. "It's bad enough that I have to listen to your twelve-year-old self bad-mouth my father all the time. I shouldn't have to listen to it from you too. I know that he treated you like shite, but he was still my father. However he treated you, I refuse to believe that he was a bad person."

"He wasn't," Severus said quietly.

Harry looked up sharply at that. "Want to run that one by me again?"

"Your father was not a bad person. He had his faults, but he died trying to protect you and your mother. If I had to say one nice thing about your father, it's that he would do anything to protect the people he cared about, so I suppose that you are like him a bit in that respect."

Harry's angry expression softened. "Thank you, Severus, I appreciate that."

Severus gave a small nod.

oOoOoOo

-August 1972-

"Where did you even get that?" Severus asked in awe, looking down at the sample of basilisk venom on the worktable.

"Let an old man have his secrets," Harry said, laughing. "What you should be worried about is how we're going to get this thing analyzed in the next two days before Hogwarts takes away the brains of the operation."

Severus flushed at the compliment. "Let me just grab my book," he said and went to dig it out of his bag. He returned with a very familiar, battered copy of  _Advanced Potion-Making_. Harry started a bit at seeing the Half-Blood Prince's textbook, subject of many countless hours of his own nocturnal fantasies, in the hands of its true owner.

"This is an N.E.W.T. level book," Harry said, taking it from him and flipping it nonchalantly to the back cover to verify that Severus' not-so-humble moniker had yet to be inscribed there. "Isn't this a bit advanced for a first-year?"

Severus snatched the book back and gave him a withering glare. "It was my mothers, and I'll be a second-year in two days."

"My humblest apologies," Harry intoned mockingly. "This should be mere child's play for a man of your distinguished years."

Severus rolled his eyes at him, and Harry had to smile. Even with the hope of all the rewards an adult Severus could offer, he thought that he would miss that easy humor- the life in those eyes that were destined to be darkened by cynicism. Perhaps that was no different than any other child though- innocence and optimism had a way of going hand in hand.

The boy was busily flipping through the book looking for the page he wanted, and Harry asked, "Do you have all of your mother's old books?"

Severus looked up at him abruptly then, and Harry saw some strong emotion there barely-veiled before the boy looked back down and said, in a tone of poorly-feigned disinterest, "Yes. I had them all with me at school last year. My father destroyed everything of hers that was in the house, unless he could sell it."

Harry wanted to reply with something that would be of comfort to the boy, but he couldn't think of anything to say. He hardly had any of his parents' things either- save his father's invisibility cloak and the photo album Hagrid had put together which were among his most cherished possessions.

"Here it is," Severus said, finally finding the page that he wanted, "Basic analyzation of an unknown substance."

Harry looked over his shoulder. "Will that work? It isn't an unknown substance. We  _know_  what it is."

Severus rolled his eyes again, and for a moment Harry felt like he was back in first-year potions. "It's for determining the unknown chemical composition of any substance to determine its properties. We might need to do something more in depth in the future, but I think this would be a good place to start." Severus eyed the vial of venom. "Do you have any more of that?"

"I can get as much as we need. Do we have enough for the initial analysis?"

Severus lifted the vial and tilted it back and forth, considering. "I think this should be enough."

"Alright, let's get to work then."

By lunchtime they had a complicated apparatus of glass erected above a small simmering cauldron- distilling the venom mixture. It looked more like a chemistry experiment gone awry than anything you would see in a potions lab, but Severus seemed confident, and Harry was more than happy to follow his lead. He made a couple of sandwiches for lunch, and they sat down at the table to eat while the cauldron boiled off.

"My father has to work on Fridays, and he wanted me to ask you if you would mind taking me to the train station again."

"It's no trouble at all; I'd be happy to, but I'm guessing he didn't phrase it like that."

Severus flushed a bit. "It was more like  _I have to work. Make that old poof bring you to the train for your_ magic _school._ "

Harry chuckled. "That sounds more like the Tobias Snape I know. I was worried we might need to have his head checked. Sudden personality changes are often an early sign of brain tumors."

"We could only hope," Severus said without humor. "Anyway, you're not, are you?"

"Not nearly as old as I look," Harry said, smiling at the truth in the joke.

Severus snorted. "A  _poof_  I mean."

That brought Harry up short, and he took a moment before answering. "Not really the way that your father means it, but, yes, I am a homosexual- though I suspect that you already suspected that much or you wouldn't have asked."

Severus looked down at his sandwich. "Well, you're always so eager to be off to see Dumbledore. I guess I thought that maybe the two of you…" Severus trailed off into silence, losing his nerve to say more.

Harry snorted laughter at that. "Albus? No, you can rest assured that Albus Dumbledore and I have a platonic relationship." Severus looked confused by this, and Harry clarified in a softer tone. "Albus and I are just friends. I'm a bit old for him anyway, don't you think."

Severus smiled sheepishly. "Well, do you have a… a  _boyfriend_  then?"

"I don't know if he would consider himself my boyfriend, but I am seeing someone, yes."

"Why haven't I ever met him?" Severus asked.

"It wouldn't be appropriate," Harry said after only a moment of hesitation.

Severus frowned. "But, how can you do  _that_ , with  _boys_  I mean. Isn't it  _wrong_?"

Harry reached a hand beneath the rims of his glasses to rub at his eyes. "I don't do  _that_  with boys. I do it with men. There is a distinction. Someday I can explain it to you, but right now I think you're too young to understand."

"I'm not stupid," Severus snapped. "I hate it when people think I'm stupid just because I'm not an adult."

"I never said that you were stupid. I think you're one of the most intelligent people I've ever met, but you are not an adult yet, and you haven't experienced the kinds of things I would be trying to explain. It would be like trying to describe the color blue to someone who was blind from birth. We can have this discussion once you've reached puberty."

Severus' face morphed into disgust. "Oh, it's about  _sex._ I know all about sex."

Harry smiled at him, holding back his laughter at the tone in Severus' voice. "Oh, you do, do you?"

"My father has women over all the time, and he doesn't go out of his way to hide what he's doing with them."

Harry nodded. "That's as may be, but I'm still not having this conversation with you now. Ask me again in a few years, and if it's still bothering you we can talk about it then. In the meantime, just know that homosexuality is accepted in the wizarding world, and someday the muggles will catch up and see reason as well. There is nothing wrong with simply being with the one that you love, whatever their gender."

Severus thought about this and nodded, almost ready to accept it, but then he frowned again. "If there's nothing wrong with it, then why would it be inappropriate for me to meet the man you're dating?"

"Ah," Harry said, nodding. "A good point, but that has nothing to do with the fact that he's a man, and all to do with the sort of man he is."

Severus frowned again. "I don't think I understand."

"Someday, I promise, I will explain everything to you," Harry said. "Now, hurry up and eat your sandwich. We have a potion to tend to."

Harry let out an inward sigh of relief when Severus did turn his attention to his food. The boy may be ready to have this conversation, but Harry was most certainly not. He would eventually find a way to explain everything, but he didn't have the slightest idea how.

oOoOoOo

-December 23rd 1972-

Severus looked as though he had the weight of the world on his shoulders as he stepped off the Hogwarts express. Harry had decided to meet him off the train without conferring with the boy's father, and hadn't been in the least surprised not to see Tobias Snape at the station.

The boy looked up and spotted Harry after a moment, not seemingly that surprised to see him either. He raised his hand and started toward Harry, and had made it halfway down the platform toward where Harry stood when four boys came running up behind him. The first was unmistakably Sirius Black, and he intentionally bumped into Severus on his way by, knocking the book Severus had been reading on the train out of his hands. As Severus scowled after him and bent to pick up his fallen book, James Potter pushed past him also- knocking Severus to his knees and tripping himself up in the process. He landed sprawling on the floor in front of Harry's feet, laughing even as Severus cried out in pain.

Harry grabbed James by the collar of his robes and hauled the boy to his feet. "You must be James Potter," he said, trying to infuse his voice with as much distaste as he could manage. After watching his father knock Severus to the ground for no reason other than that he could, it wasn't that hard.

"Yes, sir," He nodded. "Excuse me," James said and attempted to go on his way, but Harry held fast.

"Tell me something, Mr. Potter," Harry said. "Does picking on those less fortunate than yourself make you feel strong, and brave, and important? Perhaps the lack of loving parents, a top of the line broomstick, mountains of gold, and an  _invisibility cloak_ , makes Severus beneath you?"

James glanced back at Severus, carefully getting to his feet and brushing himself off while keeping an eye out for the other two marauders, and then looked back at Harry. "How do you know about my cloak?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm a friend of Severus' and of your Headmaster. I know everything about you, Mr. Potter. You should know that it isn't bravery to pick on those weaker than you."

"He's just a slimy Slytherin," James growled, pulling himself free from Harry's grip. "I don't see where you get off anyway. I don't even know you."

Harry shrugged. "I was just offering some friendly advice, Mr. Potter. He may not look like much now, but I can assure you that Severus Snape is not a good enemy to have. More than that, he's had a hard life, and he deserves understanding and respect. You would do well to show some compassion. Bravery is standing up for what is right- no matter what other people think. Hurting someone for no other reason than because they've already been hurt before, and it's easy, and you can, is nothing but cowardice." Harry studied him for a moment, looking into those brown eyes to see if he'd managed to hit a nerve. He was met only with defiance, and Harry sighed. "Go find your parents, Mr. Potter."

James ran off, shooting a backward glance at Severus.

"What were you talking to  _him_  about?" Severus asked as he stopped beside Harry, still following James with his eyes.

Harry spared a smile for Severus. "I was giving him a lecture on ethics. Unfortunately, I think you're right about him. He is a complete and total arse. Are you alright?"

"I've had worse."

"That isn't what I asked."

"I'll be fine," Severus grumbled. "Can we get out of here now? If it's okay, I'd like to go visit my mother."

Harry nodded, biting back a wave of sorrow, and wishing James was still nearby so he could clout his father over the head for being such an insensitive idiot. "Is it alright if we side-along?"

Severus nodded, and stepped into Harry's arms. Harry hugged him tightly for a moment, and then they popped out of sight.

oOoOoOo

Harry stood a little way away from Severus to give the boy some privacy, but remained close enough to keep an eye on him. There was a single rose lying on the gravestone when they arrived, so it seemed that Tobias had not forgotten the day of his wife's death even if he hadn't bothered to pick his son up off the train. Harry kept an eye out for the man, just in case he returned and wanted a confrontation with his son- though he'd probably long since drunk himself into a stupor.

"Hey, mum," Severus said as he approached the grave. "I have something to show you." He pulled out his wand and started casting spells at the scraggly grass poking out of the snow around the grave. Flowers bloomed out of the snow in a brilliant array of colors. Red roses poked their buds out of the carpet of white and spread their petals. Lilies followed, then lavender, daisies, and daffodils. Severus knelt and scooped up a handful of snow. This he transfigured into one perfect, tragically beautiful, snowdrop. He set the delicate flower atop the headstone beside his father's rose. "I learned how to do that in school this year."

He sunk down onto his knees in the snow. "I miss you," Severus whispered, and Harry could hear the sob in his voice- breaking the words.

Harry stood where he was for a moment, biting his lip, but he just couldn't stand seeing Severus there alone in that much pain, so he went over to the boy. Severus looked up at him when he arrived, and there were tears streaming down the boy's face.

"Why did she do it?" Severus demanded. "Is father right, was it because of me?"

Harry extended his hand to Severus and helped the boy to his feet. "I don't know why she did it, but I know that it wasn't because of you. Your father feels guilty, so he's trying to blame it on you, and that isn't fair. He has no right putting any of this on you."

"Was it because of him, then?" Severus asked. He wiped the tears from his face with the back of his hand, and the sadness was replaced by anger.

"Your mother was stuck in a situation that she didn't know how to get out of. I imagine that at some point she decided that death was preferable to the life she was living."

"But, she was a witch. She could have done anything she wanted."

"Sometimes it isn't as simple as that."

Severus looked down at the gravestone. "She was a coward then."

Harry shook his head, turning Severus to face him. "Your mother stood up to your father so that you could go to Hogwarts. Everything she'd ever been taught told her this was wrong, but she did it anyway, because she wanted what was best for you. Don't think poorly of your mother. She loved you very much."

"If she loved me so much, why would she leave me?" Severus was crying again.

Harry pulled Severus to him and hugged the boy to his chest. "I don't know Severus, but I'm here, and I won't leave you."

Severus looked up at him, and once more wiped the tears from his eyes. "Do you promise?"

Harry nodded. "I promise, and you know I always keep my promises."

Severus looked up at him, considering for a moment. "You do, don't you?"

"Of course, a man is only as good as his word. I suppose you'd like to stay with me over the holidays again?" Harry asked.

"Will you let me?"

"Only under one condition."

"What condition?"

"You have to help me put up a Christmas tree."

Severus laughed. "I can do that."

oOoOoOo

-May 2005-

"Did you have a nice Christmas?" Severus asked.

Harry looked up, startled. He'd only just gotten back and walked through the door from his office, and Severus never waited around for Harry to return. Harry grinned at him. "If I keep eating Christmas dinner and all the leftovers that go along with it every three months, I'm going to be quite fat when this is all over." He patted his stomach and Severus snorted.

"So much for  _Witch Weekly's_ sexiest man of the year."

Harry laughed. "Maybe it's not such a bad idea then. It might keep everyone from throwing themselves at me every time I go out."

"Yes, you do go out so very often these days."

"I'm going out tomorrow," Harry defended. "I told you that I would, once I was through with 1972."

Severus inclined his head. "So you did, and you're nothing if not true to your word."

Harry regarded him uncertainly. "Do you remember the promise I made at your mother's grave?"

The portrait nodded. "I do."

"Did I keep it?"

Severus didn't answer for a long time, and Harry was beginning to worry over what the answer would be, when he said. "Many things happened after that. You can't anticipate everything, Harry."

"What does that mean?"

"It means that some vows need to be broken," Severus said, and he wouldn't say any more.


	7. Chapter Seven

-May 2005-

"Well?" Harry asked, standing before one of Severus' frames in his bedroom. "How do I look?"

"Like I shouldn't let you go out wearing that."

"Really?" he looked away from Severus and examined himself once more in the mirror. "I never have been very good when it comes to fashion-sense, but it isn't that bad is it? I thought jeans and a tight t-shirt were pretty standard for this sort of thing."

Severus snorted. "What I meant was that I shouldn't trust you to go out wearing that. Your arse looks entirely too fuckable in those trousers."

" _Oh_." Harry flushed, turning to look at the bum in question in the mirror. "I guess the jeans are a bit tight. I'll find something else."

"Don't you dare."

Harry laughed and glanced at his watch. "I could just stay here."

"No," Severus said firmly. "Go out, have some fun, find the hottest bloke in the bar, dance with him all night, let him buy you drinks, then send him home disappointed and alone, and come back to me."

Harry laughed. "I thought I was meant to be spending some time hanging out with my friends, not sending pretty boys home from the bar with broken hearts."

"You're meant to be going out and having some fun. I'm just giving you permission to do that to the extent that you see fit," Severus said, "within reason, of course."

Harry bit back a smile. "You're giving me permission to hit on pretty men provided that I don't sleep with them."

"That is correct."

"I see," Harry nodded, "and if I told you that I had no desire to do that."

"I would tell you that your trousers say you're lying, and not because they're on fire."

Harry snorted. "I should get going anyway. I'll be back later tonight." He kissed the fingers of his hand and pressed it to the portrait.

The moment his hand touched the canvas there was a shrill ring and Harry jerked away looking for the source. After a few moments of searching, Harry found his mobile, buried beneath a dirty set of robes, having some kind of seizure. After a few tries, he managed to figure out how to answer the damned thing, and held it to his ear.

"Hello?"

"Harry? This is Dudley."

"Is everything alright?" Harry asked. Dudley had never called him before, and he sounded upset.

"Donna's pregnant."

"Congratulations."

"I had a vasectomy last year, Harry."

"Um…" Harry had absolutely no idea what that was.

"I'm fixed, Harry, like a bloody dog. I can't have any more kids. Worse than that, it was  _her_  fucking idea! Who knows if the other two are even mine!"

"Calm down," Harry said, brain whirring with this new information. "Of course they're  _your_  children. Deckland looks just like Grandpa Evans, and even if they aren't you're still their father. You're the one that takes care of them and worries about them. You're the one they call dad and want to tuck them in at night and read them a bedtime story. The rest doesn't matter."

Harry could hear the sob threatening in Dudley's voice when he said. "Harry, I need a drink. I'm in London; can you come meet me somewhere?"

"I'm actually going out with some friends from work, but I can reschedule with them. I'll be there in a bit."

"I could just tag along," Dudley offered. "I mean, if that's alright? I just need to forget about all this for a while- cool down so I can deal with her without making it worse. Maybe it would be better with a group."

"Yeah, okay, I'm sure that will be fine," Harry agreed, hoping that it was.

He gave Dudley directions on how to get to the Leaky Cauldron. Dudley wouldn't be able to see it of course, but he could wait outside until they arrived. He ended the call and looked up at Severus.

"This should be interesting."

Severus smirked. "Petunia Evans' son in a gay wizard club… Now that is something that I should like to see."

Harry gave him a worried look and left to meet with the others

oOoOoOo

It seemed that a hasty introduction into the wizarding nightlife was just the thing to forget about a cheating spouse and an illegitimate child. Dudley was so blown away by the world around him as they walked the streets of Diagon Alley that he wasn't much capable of following the conversation within the group, so hopefully it was also taking his mind off his wife.

"We are going to Frankie's, aren't we?" Charlie asked. "It only seems fair with me and Harry being the only single ones."

Ron groaned. "Do we have to?"

"I don't see what difference it makes to you," Hermione said. "Let Harry and Charlie have some fun. You're just going to sit in the corner and drink beer anyway."

Harry had been watching Dudley, peering around as though his head was on a wheel, and he looked up to see everyone looking to him. "Er, well, I don't really care where we go."

"It's decided then," Charlie said, clapping Harry on the back.

Ron groaned.

"Oh, shut up, Weasley," Draco snapped at him. "I want to watch some Lesbians snog."

"Why did we invite you again?" Ron asked.

"Because I'm rich and I always buy the first round," Draco reminded. "Why I accepted, I have no idea."

"It's because you're hoping to make the front page of the  _Prophet_  tomorrow when someone sees you in a gay club with Harry," Charlie told him.

Draco snorted.

Dudley seemed to have finally joined the conversation at that point, because his head stopped it's spinning and jerked back to look at Harry. "We're going to a  _gay_ club?" he asked.

"Is that a problem?"

Dudley scratched his forehead. "No, I guess not. They still have liquor right?"

"They most certainly have liquor," Harry agreed.

"Are men going to hit on me?"

Harry glanced him over. He was so clearly a muggle that it was almost embarrassing, and there were plenty of wizards who would want to go after a muggle just to see what it was like. "Probably," he admitted after a moment of consideration.

"Oh," was all he said.

Ginny went over and slung an arm around Dudley's waist. "Just stay close to me and most of them will leave you alone. If anyone bothers you, you can tell them that I'm your girlfriend if you want."

Dudley smiled at her sheepishly.

"Is that all settled then?" Charlie asked.

No one had any objections. Neville and Luna had been snogging throughout the whole exchange and seemed happy enough to follow the rest of the group wherever they led.

oOoOoOo

As Harry sat in a corner booth with Dudley and Ron, drinking a glass of scotch, he had to think that going out with his friends really wasn't all that much different than sitting at home- save that the drinks were more expensive and the music droned out all hope of conversation. He longed to be at home with Severus- maybe having a long slow wank on the couch in front of the fire.

"Th (beat) so (beat) ool. (beat) Do (beat) ards (beat) ways (beat) gic (beat) kiss?" Dudley asked.

Harry looked at him helplessly. Ron rolled his eyes and raised his wand to cast a muting spell in a bubble around their table. The music quieted to a low background noise.

Dudley's eyes widened in surprise and he grinned. "That's fantastic."

Ron shrugged. "Magic."

"What did you say now?" Harry asked.

"I said, this is cool. Do wizards always use magic like this?"

"Oh," Harry glanced over the crowd of bodies rubbing together on the dance floor and tried to see it from a muggle's perspective. He hadn't noticed the display of magic before, but now he saw that hardly a moment went by without someone casting a spell. As he watched, a pair of witches at a side table conjured a velvet draping around their table to give them more privacy, a wizard shot a stream of bubbles out of his wand to catch the attention of another man at the bar, a large group on the dance floor seemed to be giving one of their number a magical makeover by casting numerous cosmetic spells at him to continually change the color and style of his hair and clothing, and the club's set spells cast an ever changing magical light show over all of it. "Yeah, I suppose so."

"You should see my house when the whole brood is home," Ron said.

Dudley nodded, obviously a bit overwhelmed.

Hermione came over then, trailed a moment later by Ginny and Charlie. "Come on, you three, time to dance."

Ron snorted, so Ginny grabbed him by the shoulder of his robes and hauled him to his feet. "Your wife wants to dance, Ron," she said. "Get off your lazy arse."

"Okay! Okay, Gin, geez." He straightened his robes and took Hermione out on the dance floor.

"Come on, Dudley; you're with me," Ginny said, and hauled him out on the dance floor as well.

"You too, Potter," Charlie said, extending his hand. "I haven't had a decent offer all night. Why don't you use a bit of that fame to help a brother out?"

Harry drained his scotch and took Charlie's hand. "Don't get any ideas. I have every intention of going home alone."

"What about the tall, skinny guy at the bar?" Charlie leaned in to whisper, pointing him out.

Harry glanced over. "Too insecure, look at how he's standing. He isn't even sure if he's gay- probably his first time here."

"The brunette in the corner?" Charlie suggested as they started dancing.

Harry looked and shook his head. "Too young."

"The blonde then, arguing with the bartender."

"That's Draco Malfoy," Harry pointed out.

Charlie narrowed his eyes and laughed. "So it is. Malfoy has a pretty nice arse."

Harry snorted. "You can try if you want, but I think you'd be wasting your time."

Charlie continued scanning the crowd. "Leather jacket?"

"I'm not into that."

"How about the one with the blue hair standing by the door?"

Harry looked over his shoulder to see. "That's a girl, Charlie."

"I was just checking. You don't seem much interested in men these days. I thought maybe you'd switched sides."

Harry sighed. "If I tell you that I'm seeing someone, will you leave off?"

Charlie abruptly stopped dancing. "Who?"

"I'm not telling you who it is."

Charlie gripped his shoulders. "The last person you actually  _dated_  was my little sister, Harry. If you're actually dating a man, it's a huge step. You have to tell me who it is."

"Forget about it," Harry said, "and don't you dare tell any of the others."

"If you don't want to tell me who it is, then why did you even mention it?" Charlie asked.

"So you would stop pointing out men," Harry snapped, "and  _women_  for that matter. I already told you, I'm going home alone. I have someone waiting."

Charlie narrowed his eyes. "Back at Hogwarts? Oh, geez Harry, please tell me you're not dating a student."

"I'm not a bloody pedophile, Charlie," Harry snapped. "For fuck's sake!"

"Who then?"

Harry glanced around. "Can we maybe talk about this outside? Draco might want to make the paper by being seen with me, but if I keep whispering in your ear, it's going to be you all over the Daily Prophet tomorrow morning."

Charlie nodded and led Harry out one of the side doors to the blessedly empty smoker's patio.

Charlie was looking at him expectantly, and Harry let out a long sigh. "You absolutely can't tell anyone, and you can't laugh." Harry waited for Charlie to nod and then just bit the bullet. "I'm dating a portrait," he held up a hand to forestall Charlie's response. "I don't want to hear any of it. I know it's not the best situation, but I'm happy okay?"

"Hey," Charlie shrugged. "I'm not one to disparage someone else's choice of partner. I'd be interested in the mechanics of that one, though. Which portrait is it? One of the headmasters? It's not Dumbledore is it?"

"Just  _stop_ , Charlie," Harry groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Relax, Harry. I'm kidding," he said, chuckling, but then he abruptly stopped- staring at Harry. "It's Snape," he said, and his tone made it clear that it wasn't a joke this time or even a question.

"Charlie," Harry warned.

"No," he said. "It is." Charlie's hand went to the bridge of his nose and he mimicked Harry's gesture of frustration. "Snape did that all the time, and you must be picking up other things from him as well. Sometimes you talk like him."

"Charlie, it's-"

"No," he said cutting Harry off. "It's okay. You don't have to defend yourself, and I won't tell anyone."

"Thank you."

"I don't push anyone out of the closet, and, anyway, I think Ron would have an aneurism. Does anyone else know?"

"Just Dudley."

Charlie nodded approvingly. "You know, your cousin's a pretty okay bloke, for a muggle. It's too bad about his wife."

"He told you about that?"

"The cheating?" Charlie nodded. "Oh yeah, he mentioned it, but I just meant that he has one."

Harry punched him in the shoulder playfully. Charlie rubbed at the spot and grinned. "Hey, a guy can try."

"Leave off the straight ones, and you'll be a happier man."

"There aren't any straight ones. There's just gay, bi, and the ones who haven't met Charlie Weasley."

Harry laughed. "Let's go back inside, then, so we can introduce them. How about that tall, skinny bloke at the bar?"

"I knew he was your type," Charlie said with triumph.

"Maybe a bit," Harry admitted.

"I'm more interested in Malfoy at this point. Slytherin's always have the nicest backsides."

"You're going home alone," Harry said.

"Malfoy lives there too," Charlie said, smirking.

oOoOoOo

A few hours later Harry was struggling to get a very drunken Dudley home.

"Ginny's a really good dancer," Dudley slurred, leaning into Harry. "Nice," he made a gesture cupping his hand over his chest to indicate breasts, "too. I guess you're not really interested in that, though."

Harry laughed. "She has a boyfriend, and you're married."

"Yeah, to a lying cheating whore." Dudley hiccupped and groaned. "What am I going to do, Harry?"

"Honestly, Dudley, I don't understand why you haven't asked for a divorce," Harry said. "She cheats on you at least once a year."

"Oh sure," Dudley agreed. "So I can only see my kids on weekends and every other holiday while she shacks up with some guy she met online and they start calling  _him_  dad."

Harry was sidelined by that and he stopped walking. "Would she really do that to you?"

"They're her kids too, and she's the mom. That's how this kind of thing works. You're lucky."

"Why is that?"

"You don't really have to worry about Snape stepping out on you."

"Why not?" There were plenty of other portraits in the castle. Harry wasn't exactly sure how all that worked, but he was sure that some of them were probably fooling around with each other.

"Because you love each other. Donna has never loved me" Dudley said miserably.

"Then why did you get married."

"She was pregnant and I wanted to do the right thing. And now, I'm either stuck with that cheating bitch, or I break up my family and lose my kids."

Harry felt so trapped. He wanted to be able to offer Dudley some kind of advice, but from the sound of things his cousin was on the arse end of a shite situation with no hope of finding a way out. "Have you tried just talking to her about it?"

Dudley moaned. "That's  _all_  we talk about these days."

"What about marriage counseling?"

"She won't go."

"Have you ever thought about going without her?"

"To a  _marriage counselor_?"

Harry shrugged. "I don't know what else to tell you, mate. I've never really been in this kind of situation before. Maybe someone who deals with it all the time would have some better advice on how to deal with her. If it does come to a divorce, it could help you get custody of the kids."

"Yeah, you might have a point there. I guess it wouldn't hurt to try."

Harry nodded. "It would be somewhere to start anyway. Are you ready to apparate?"

"Huh?" Dudley looked up at him in confusion.

"Magic," Harry clarified. "I'm going to transport us back to your place."

"Oh," Dudley nodded, "okay."

Harry held out his hand and Dudley took it. There was a crack of apparition and a moment later they were standing in front of Dudley's house in Croyden. Well, Harry was standing; Dudley was bent over retching up his dinner on the neighbor's petunias.

When Dudley had managed to stop being sick, he straightened up and wiped the back of his hand over his mouth. "You  _travel_  like that?" he asked incredulously.

"You get used to it after a while," Harry said. "It's never exactly  _pleasant_ , but after a few times you learn to keep your breakfast down.

"I take it back," Dudley said. "I'm not jealous. You can keep your magic, and next time we're taking the train."

Harry laughed. "Well, come on," he said, taking his cousin under one arm again, "let's go face the missus."

Donna opened the door for them after Harry had fumbled with Dudley's keys for a minute and finally resorted to pulling out his wand. She stared at him for a moment, eyes red with tears, as he held his wand still- pointed at her chest.

"Why are you pointing a stick at me?" she asked, and Harry hurriedly stowed it away in his sleeve.

"Leave Harry alone, you're the one that's barmy, not him," Dudley said and pushed past his wife into the house.

Harry stood there for a moment on the doorstep just staring at Donna. Dudley had never seen fit to explain to his wife the particular nature of Harry's abilities, and she'd overheard a few conversations that Harry probably should have obliviated from her memory. The end result was that, between a few of Petunia's less than complimentary comments about him and Harry's occasional odd behavior, Donna thought he was stark raving mad. Harry wanted to tell her off for the way she'd been treating Dudley, but under that condescending stare he felt about as superior as a dung beetle.

"I guess I'll just be off then," he said instead.

"I think you'd better."

Harry felt a flash of anger at that, but instead of lashing out impulsively he took just a moment to imagine Severus in the same situation. He held himself a little straighter and reminded himself who he was dealing with. You could be damned sure that Severus Snape would never let himself be bullied by a muggle of such low moral station. He channeled a sneer that would have made his lover proud, and said instead, "Best of luck with your pregnancy," and apparated away on the spot.

Let Dudley explain that if he saw fit, and if not then Statute of Secrecy be damned, he was  _Harry Potter_ , and he wasn't going to be pushed around by anyone- let Donna Dursley wonder if she wasn't the crazy one after all.

oOoOoOo

"Did you enjoy yourself," Severus asked as Harry walked through the door and started shedding his robes in layers onto the floor in a line as he made his way to the bedroom.

He flopped down onto the bed, naked, and let out a long exhausted sigh as Severus followed him into the room- taking up residence in the portrait above the bed.

"Should I assume that's a 'no' then?" Severus asked.

"The club was fun, but poor Dudley is having a rough go of things, and I think I might have just made it worse. I revealed myself to his wife."

Severus frowned. "You flashed her?"

"No!" Harry groaned. "I revealed my nature. I apparated in front of her."

"Why?"

"Because she's a bitch and I was sick of being looked down on by a muggle with about as much innate power as a turnip." Harry thought about it for a moment. "Actually it may have helped. If Dudley tells her about the magical world, she might realize that his interests are protected by powers outside of her control."

"Or perhaps Minister Shakelbolt will be making an unannounced visit later this evening to lecture you on muggle/wizard interaction protocol."

"I don't care."

"You should. If anyone decides to start monitoring you for suspicious magical activity, you could be in a lot of trouble. Your little time-travel project isn't, strictly speaking, legal."

"If they try to stop me, I'll go back and stay there until it's over."

"You would just leave me?"

"It's time-travel, Severus. If I fail, you'll never even notice that I was gone, and if I'm successful it won't matter anyway."

"If you're successful, you would rob me of what time I do have with you in this form, and if you fail, what is to stop you from staying. Certainly the boy would have turned into a man by then, one much more appealing than a square of canvas, and what's to stop you then from ceasing the application of your aging potions and introducing yourself?"

"Could I do that? I mean, wouldn't that be a paradox?"

"You're  _Harry Potter_ \- what are the laws of mere mortals to you?"

"You're angry with me," Harry said.

"Such a quick one, Potter," Severus sneered.

"I could take you with me," Harry suggested.

"Exactly how would you explain that to my younger self if he should catch a glimpse of me?"

"I don't know. You could just stay in the bedroom or something. Anyway, wouldn't he be prevented from seeing you because it would be a paradox and that can't happen?"

Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. "Or perhaps the paradox of my existence in the past would mean the end of said existence all together. You cannot  _know_ , Harry."

Harry sighed. " _Please_ , Severus. I'm not saying that I want to do any of those things, but if it comes down to it, don't you think that it's more important that I at least  _try_  to see this through? Wouldn't you rather be alive?"

"It wouldn't be me that is alive; it would be  _him_. Please tell me that you can understand the distinction."

"I do," Harry agreed, "but you have to understand that things can't go on like this indefinitely."

"When we began this relationship, you claimed that you would rather have a portrait version of me than no version at all. Do you wish to retract that statement?"

Harry felt caught. "I… no, of course not. It's just that I have to try for something better. Don't you want the same thing? Even if it is for a different version of yourself, wouldn't you rather have that chance?"

"I had resigned myself to that decision, yes," Severus agreed. "I would sacrifice my existence to know that I could touch you. I had accepted that the Severus standing at the end of all this would not be the same man, and I would gladly stand aside to see you happy, but not yet. I have a couple years with you still before I have to come to terms with that sacrifice, and I won't give up the time that I  _do_  have. Don't ask me to do that." Severus was trembling slightly now.

Harry rose up on his knees and leaned forward, pressing a hand against the canvas. "Okay," he agreed. "I promise I won't let it come to that. I promise to come back. I won't leave you here- whether this works or not."

Severus nodded and cleared his throat.

"I'll be more careful from now on. I won't draw the attention of the ministry, but trust me. I can handle Kingsley if I need to."

"Of course."

"I told Charlie Weasley about us," Harry said then, hoping that it wouldn't be the prelude of another fight. "He seemed to understand."

Severus raised an eyebrow. "Why did you confide in Charlie? If you were going to tell anyone, I would have expected it to be Hermione."

Harry shrugged. "He was trying to set me up with someone."

"As Miss Granger has been doing for the past year," Severus pointed out.

Harry didn't bother to correct him on Hermione's surname. "It just felt right to tell Charlie." He shrugged. "I'm not sure why."

"Perhaps you were seeking the approval of a former lover."

Harry shook his head. "That was ages ago, and it didn't work out. Charlie and I are just friends."

"Perhaps, but he was your first. That carries a certain amount of importance. His opinion will always carry more weight."

Harry stretch out on the bed and gave a lazy yawn. "You're not jealous, are you?"

"No," Severus replied. "You've totally devoted your life to me, against my own advice. I find little threat in Charlie Weasley. If you still had romantic feelings for him, you likely would not have pursued a relationship with me in the first place. At the very least, it would be much easier to convince you to leave your quarters on a regular basis. No, it seems the only one that I have cause to be jealous of is myself."

Harry made a non-committal noise. He'd had fun tonight, but he was no longer used to staying out so late, and the evening's excitement was taking its toll. He had to fight to keep his eyes open.

"You've had other lovers too," he pointed out, gazing up at Severus through half-lidded eyes. "If you could take me around and show me off, would you care what they thought? Is there anyone I should be jealous of?"

"I would take pleasure in flaunting you before certain people, but no one that you need to worry about."

"Oh?" Harry smiled at him. "Who was your first? You never told me."

Severus smirked. "He was a relative of someone in the village. I met him the summer before seventh year, and became instantly smitten. He was quite a few years older than me, so it took nearly the whole holiday to coax him into bed."

"How did you finally manage to seduce him?" Harry asked, trailing a hand lazily over his stomach.

Severus chuckled. "I think it was less seduction and more of a systematic wear-down of his defenses."

"He didn't want you as much as you wanted him?" Harry asked.

"I think that he had an understandable reluctance to engage in anything sexual with an inexperienced teenager."

Harry made a speculative noise and let his hand trail down to his groin- fingers curling in the thatch of pubic hair. "I can almost imagine. Were you nervous?"

"Of course. I don't think I'd ever been so scared in my life, but I tried not to show it."

"Was he gentle with you?" Harry asked, stroking himself now- lazily, almost half asleep.

Severus sat on the edge of his own painted bed and looked down at Harry in curiosity, smiling to himself. "Not at first. He held me so tight and kissed me so desperately, that I knew he must have wanted it for as long as I had. I was desperate too. We practically tore each other's clothes off. We were frantic. He threw me down on the bed and was on top of me in an instant."

Harry began to masturbate in earnest now, and Severus paused for a moment to watch the expression on his face and the way the muscles in his arm tensed with each stroke. It was a beautiful sight, but the memory he was calling up to induce it was too firmly attached to other memories of emotional heartache for him to feel any arousal himself. Still, he was enthralled enough just by the beautiful picture Harry made, lying naked on the bed, to continue.

"How did he take you?" Harry asked.

"That part was gentle. He realized how nervous I was, and he took his time. He brought me to such a point of desperate need that I hardly cared what he did to me."

Harry moaned, moving his hand faster now.

"He entered me slowly, and drew my orgasm out patiently in waves of pleasure. I had no idea that sex could even feel like that- like one person could be completely filled and completed by the other."

Harry gasped and shuddered on the bed as his own orgasm overcame him. Severus just watched him, with a sad expression on his face, as Harry milked the last few drops from his softening cock. He reached up and wiped a tear from his cheek before Harry could see.

Harry cast a wandless charm to clean himself off and lay back into the pillows, sated. He looked up at Severus then and frowned. "Are you okay?"

Severus managed a weak smile and said, "fine," in a hoarse voice that wouldn't have fooled anyone- least of all Harry.

Harry was up in a moment, kneeling on the edge of the bed and leaning toward the portrait. "What happened with him? What did he do to you?"

"Turned my world upside down and broke my heart." Severus snorted at his own sentimentality. "It was a long time ago."

Harry's frown deepened. "I never should have… I didn't notice that it was upsetting you. I wouldn't have asked. I would have stopped."

Severus smirked at him. "I was enjoying the view."

That still didn't help Harry's wash of guilt. "I still should have realized that you weren't enjoying that as much as I was."

"Be assured that I enjoyed it the first time around."

That really didn't make Harry feel any better. "Do you want me to keep this guy away from you? I could tell him to piss off, or tell you to stay away from him."

Severus smirked. "I doubt that would work, and while I have many regrets, that isn't one of them."

"I still don't like the idea of you being hurt."

"It has been my experience that you cannot feel love without being hurt at some point. For a while, I believed that it was better to never love anyone than to open myself up to pain, but now I think that only cowards refuse the good in life for fear of the bad." Severus lifted a hand to press against the canvas, wanting nothing more than to simply touch Harry's cheek. "Let it happen. I would not give up that experience no matter how much pain it caused."

Harry nodded. He pressed his own hand against the canvas, placing it over Severus'. "I love you," he said softly, lingering there for a moment before pulling away and crawling into bed.

Severus didn't sleep. He sat on the edge of his own bed thinking himself in circles, and watched Harry dream.

oOoOoOo

-August 1973-

"Do we have to do this?" Severus asked. He reached a hand out to pet the white and gray rat on their work table behind one ear. "It's kind of nice."

"Would you prefer to test the potion on yourself?" Harry asked.

"Well, no, but couldn't we test it on something else? Something less fluffy, like a cockroach or something?"

"Not if we are to trust the potion to work on humans. The reason rats are used so often in animal testing is that they are similarly susceptible to the things that humans are. If we are to trust the potion enough to ever consider trying it on a human, we have to know that it at least works on a rat, and then perhaps a pig."

Severus sighed. "You could have found a meaner rat," he said dejectedly and pet the animal one last time.

"I will endeavor to find less pleasant test subjects in the future," Harry agreed. "Now, are you ready?"

"I guess so."

Harry used his wand to carefully transfer a small amount of basilisk venom from the vial in his hand to a spot, under the skin, between the rat's shoulders. The effect was immediate. The rat immediately went stiff and began seizing. Severus carefully opened the rat's jaws and applied a dose of the potion and the seizure stopped and the animal went limp. He looked up at Harry uncertainly and Harry cast a few diagnostic spells on the animal.

Finally, he shook his head. "The heart stopped."

Severus let out a long breath and steeled himself to go on. Harry removed the rat and replaced it with a second. "Let's try the potion first this time."

The result was the same with the second rat, and the third, and the fourth. They increased the dosage of potion each time and lengthened the wait between administering it and injecting the venom, but there was no change. They had a dozen dead rats by the time Harry called an end to it.

He heaved a sigh and banished the corpses of the rats. "We'll have to try something else. I had hoped we were on to something this time."

"Should we run more tests on the venom?" Severus asked.

"I think that we have learned all we can from the venom, but I've had another idea. It's said that basilisks flee the crowing of a rooster, and perhaps we should find out why."

"You think that they might be afraid of chickens?" Severus said doubtfully.

Harry shrugged. "Perhaps not just chickens, but all fowl, I heard a tale of one being thwarted by a phoenix once. I'll do some more research and see if I can come up with anything. If they fear roosters, perhaps it is because the roosters are not vulnerable to the basilisk's main defenses, and that may be a subject worth pursuing."

Severus nodded. "Are we done for the day then? I could make some tea." The boy was visibly shaken by the grisly result of the day's testing, and Harry took pity on him.

"How about a butterbeer?" Harry offered, and that earned him a smile. "They're in the cabinet above the sink. Fetch us a couple and we'll drink them out in the garden."

oOoOoOo

-September 1973-

"I presume that young Severus is safely on the train?" Dumbledore asked when Harry appeared in his office.

"On his way," Harry agreed, taking a seat.

"Which means that you're here to bid me a fond farewell for another year."

"I have other projects to see to while Severus is in school."

"You have a lover to get back to- leaving your dear old friend Albus all alone."

Harry chuckled. "Don't try to guilt me into staying  _again_. You'll have the students to keep you busy. I'll pop back around Christmas for a visit if you like."

"I would," Dumbledore agreed, pouring them tea. "You might check in on Severus from time to time. We do have parent days twice a year. The poor boy never has any family visit him, and I'm sure that you'd be a welcome sight."

This of course brought its own set of problems. While he would love to visit Severus at school, Dumbledore believed Peverell to be roughly sixty-five years younger than Severus did. "If I have time, I'll be sure to make a visit," Harry agreed, not meaning it. "How are things with the ministry?" He asked.

Albus sighed, sipping his tea. "The same old song and dance, I'm afraid. Playing in politics is a bit like a game of chess if you were to throw away the rulebook, half of the pieces were invisible, and your opponent was enough of a seer to anticipate most of your moves." He paused long enough to consider what he'd said. "I suppose that is what I enjoy about it."

"I thought you were just trying to make the world a better place." Harry said, studying the older man.

"Is there some reason that I can't enjoy playing the game while I'm at it?"

"I suppose not." Harry sipped his tea and thought it over.

While he had stepped into the headmaster position, he had never entered into the political end of Dumbledore's realm any further than the occasional school board meeting when he'd taken up the mantle. Albus' influence throughout the wizarding world was a vast web, and the old man sat in the center, manipulating the threads with the skill of long practice. Even now, in 2005, seven years after the man's death, Albus still had long-term plans that were playing themselves out. Whenever one of these made itself apparent to Harry, he was shocked to find the number of contingencies that Dumbledore had planned for. There was no doubt in his mind that Albus was a political genius, so why shouldn't the man enjoy playing a game he was so  _very_ good at?

"I've been meaning to ask you about something," Harry said. Albus nodded for him to go on. "I've heard some talk of a wizard who has recently stepped into the political arena and begun gaining followers. I believe he calls himself Lord Voldemort? It's an awfully pretentions title if you ask me, but I was curious as to your opinion of him."

"Ah, yes," Dumbledore agreed. " _Lord_  Voldemort sounds quite pretentious, but then, when he was a student here, Tom Riddle was always an ambitious child, and he drew certain of the other children from his house to him like flies to honey. I've had little interaction with him since he graduated, and have yet to meet him on political ground. Yet, I sense his hand, behind the scenes, in much of what is happening in the ministry at the moment. He's hungry for power, and has set his sights no lower than the position of Minister for Magic. He has his fair share of supporters, Abraxas Malfoy for one, and he's rallying the pure-bloods once more. Yes, I believe we can expect to hear much more from Mr. Riddle in the future. He will be a major player in the years to come."

"Do you think we should be concerned?"

"Certainly," Albus agreed, "we must always be concerned when a new Dark Lord makes his presence known."

"Forgive me if it's a tender subject," Harry said, getting around to what he really wanted to know, "but with your previous experiences in that regard, do you think that you might be able to reason with this Riddle fellow?"

"You want to know about Gellert," Dumbledore said.

"I'll admit that I'm curious."

Dumbledore sighed. "I would point out that Gellert Grindelwald has absolutely nothing on common with Tom Riddle. So, your assertion that I might be able to reason with Riddle based on my previous experience is quite unlikely. However, I've been dancing around the subject of Gellert for long enough. Perhaps it is time we just got it over with. What would you like to know?"

Harry shrugged. "I've heard the official story: promising young wizard turned dark, quest for power, closest of friends turned to the bitterest of enemies, and the ultimate showdown. But, what really happened, from your point of view?"

"After my sister's death I did not see him for a long time. When I finally was able to speak with him, I found that the young man I had once been so close to had changed. Somewhere along the line, Gellert lost sight of his ideals. We both sought the power to make the world better, but sometimes it's easy to forget the people involved. I loved him, of course, and I still do, but he's not the same man that he was when I first met him." Dumbledore pulled his wand from his sleeve and set it on the desk between them. "Do you know what this is?"

"They say that it's the Elder Wand from the old stories, but most people don't really believe that."

"It's your family those stories are about. What do you think?"

Harry of course knew that the stories were true, but couldn't tell Dumbledore that. Deep down, he had other opinions on the matter in any case. "It is indeed a fifteen inch wand, made of Elder. Was it given to one of my ancestors by death himself? Is it the most powerful wand ever made?" Harry shrugged. "Perhaps, but I don't think that really matters."

"Oh?" Albus tilted his head to the side as he returned his wand to his sleeve. "And why is that?"

"Sometimes the symbolism of a thing holds more power than the thing itself. Power, political power anyway, is just other people accepting that you have the right to tell them what to do. Then, belief is what matters."

Albus nodded. "You understand then. The wand only channels the power within. If I believe that it is the Elder wand, then it is, or might as well be. If others accept that I hold sway over them, then I do. Gellert won that power, and when no one was left with the will to stand against him, he could do  _anything_. It's about checks and balances. Gellert began to believe that he was invincible, that he could do no wrong. That everything he did was for the greater good of the wizarding world- even if people were killed in the process. He was drunk on power and couldn't be dissuaded from his path."

"I understand all of that," Harry agreed. "I want to know your part in it."

"I started out at his side, and ended up in his way. When Ariana was killed, he fled. He would not stay and have his own quest delayed or hindered in any way. He chose power over me. That's why I fought him. I was being pushed on every side into the confrontation, but that had very little to do with why I finally faced him. I didn't have the noble intentions that everyone assumed. I was  _angry_. He hurt me, and I wanted to make him pay for it. I didn't give a damn about anyone else. At the end I gave him a choice. I would have stopped the duel there and once more taken my place beside him, as an equal and valued partner, but he was too obsessed with power by that point to ever consider sharing it. So, I ended it. I took the wand, and Gellert lost the symbol of his power, and with it the power itself. He was imprisoned within his own stronghold, and I returned here to Hogwarts- which has an odd sort of symmetry, if you think about it. "

"Do you regret standing against him?" Harry asked.

Dumbledore sipped his tea as he thought about the question. He'd maintained his calm demeanor remarkably well throughout this whole conversation, but Harry could see it starting to slip around the edges now. "No one has ever asked me that question before. I suspect that most people would never have even considered the possibility, but the truth is that  _yes_ , sometimes I do regret it. I still believe that, given the circumstances, it was the only course of action I could take in good conscience, but I often wonder how things would have turned out had I simply stood aside and allowed events to unfold without my participation. If I had been less of a coward, taken my fair share of blame in Ariana's death, maybe I would still have my friend, and maybe we really could accomplish all the  _good_  that we had hoped." He sipped his tea again. "I really do believe that the world would be a better place if muggles and wizards could live together in full knowledge of one another, but perhaps the world just isn't ready for that. The wizarding community has a lot of growing up to do before they could be trusted to not take advantage of their perceived power- to treat muggles as equals."

Harry nodded. He agreed completely with Dumbledore, and he still had a hard time thinking of muggles as being truly equal to wizards. Donna Dursley, for instance, would never be his equal- but perhaps that had little to do with magical ability.

"You've admitted to going back in time to try to save your sister's life and change Grindelwald's path, but have you ever visited him since his imprisonment?" Harry asked.

"I have not," Dumbledore admitted. "I fear that I lack the courage."

Harry nodded his understanding. "Perhaps it is time that you found it. There may be some hope for Gellert Grindelwald yet. There may come a time when the wizarding world needs his help."

 


	8. Chapter Eight

-July 1974-

" _Great Merlin_ , Severus. I really do think you've grown a foot since I last saw you. You'll be hitting your head against the rafters soon." Severus had gone with the Evans' to France at the start of the holidays, so this was the first time that Harry had seen him, and it wasn't an exaggeration- the boy seemed to have sprouted up since Christmas. Puberty had hit Severus Snape, and it had hit  _hard._  The poor boy hardly seemed to know what to do with the tall, lanky form that he'd suddenly been stuck with.

Severus looked back at him sheepishly and gamely tried to change the subject. "Did you have any ideas on the potion while I've been away?"

"As a matter of fact, I have." Harry pulled a vial from his robes and set it, gleaming with a faint luminescence, upon the table.

Severus leaned forward, squinting at it. "What is this stuff?"

"I believe it may be the key ingredient to our potion- phoenix tears."

At first Severus seemed impressed. "How did you manage to get your hands on phoenix tears?" But, before Harry could answer his question, Severus frowned and changed his tune. "If you could get these all along, why are we even bothering with this bloody potion? You don't have to put phoenix tears in a potion to cure a basilisk bite. They'll work just fine on their own."

Harry only smiled and nodded at him. "Of course, you are correct- as always, Severus. Phoenix tears will heal almost any injury or malady- particularly magical ones, if you have a willing phoenix or suitably trained wizard to apply them. Also, you would have to remain alive long enough for the tears to be administered. Unfortunately, this isn't always the case, and what we are hoping to achieve here is a potion to act as a kind of vaccine- an inoculation that can be taken prior to coming into contact with the scaly serpent in question."

"Oh," Severus said, nodding his understanding.

"As to your original question," Harry continued. "I took the tears from an old friend who was willing to provide them once I had explained my need. I believe that you've met Fawkes."

Severus nodded. "Sure, but phoenixes don't give their tears to just anybody."

"Is that how you think of me, Severus- as just  _anybody_?"

The boy had the decency to blush. "No sir, I guess not."

Harry nodded, gracing the boy with a smile. "Now I have a question of my own, if you don't mind. Given your father's distaste for all things magical, and your own desire not to call undue attention to yourself within the confines of the muggle world, why is it that you've suddenly taken to wearing robes whilst on your summer holidays?"

Harry gestured to the boy's attire. "Truly magnificent robes that they are," and they were- a rehearsal for Severus' future intimidating glory, "and surely they cost you a pretty penny as well."

"Yeah, well, Lily picked them out. She worked out this enchantment spell on them too. To muggles, it just looks like I'm wearing a shirt and trousers. As for why I'm wearing them, I've been invited over to Malfoy Manor for dinner tonight, and I don't have time to go home to change. Actually, I was hoping to use your floo, if that's okay?"

"Certainly, you're welcome to use it any time," Harry said in a tone barely above a whisper. He had been marveling at his mother's cleverness and ingenuity- developing a spell that would have undoubtedly saved the Ministry's Department of Muggle Relations a lot of trouble if the general wizarding public, rubbish as they were at blending into the non-magical world, had ever gotten wind of it. Now, all of that was wiped from his mind as the more pressing issue revealed by Severus' statement sunk in.

"I wasn't aware that you were so well acquainted with the Malfoy boy." Harry did his best to keep his tone neutral.

Severus shrugged. "We're not really  _friends_  or anything, but we're in the Slug Club together, and I guess his mother went to school with mine. I received an invitation by owl a few days ago." He shrugged again. "It was in my best interest to accept. The Malfoys are a powerful family, and the Prince name doesn't have much influence since my mother married a muggle. With mum gone now, and being a  _half-blood_  and everything, I need to make whatever contacts I can, if I want to earn a halfway decent apprenticeship when I graduate."

"Aren't you a bit young to be worried about that?"

"With my social standing and bloodlines, Professor Slughorn says that I can't afford to wait, or pass up an opportunity."

This was one aspect of wizard culture that Harry had been spared, and the details, of which he had only been vaguely aware, had never really occurred to him. Certainly, he'd seen enough jostling for position in his school years- particularly within Slytherin House. However, the Potter family name and his own fame and accomplishments had ensured that Harry had never needed to worry about making the right contacts or currying favor to secure his future. Although, now that he considered it, there had never been any shortage of people trying to befriend him for their own political gain- he could count three separate Ministers of Magic among that number. Even now, Kingsley Shaklebolt was continuously seeking his help and opinion- even though he had no experience whatsoever in running a country.

However, the idea that the students' heads of houses might be guiding them as to the right kinds of people and friends to associate with, in an attempt to cement their social position, was faintly appalling. It just seemed so  _underhanded_. He had every intention of bringing it up at the next staff meeting to see if the custom was still in place, and to what extent. In the meantime, he had to see to Severus' interests.

"I can assure you that I will give you a glowing recommendation to whatever master you'd like to apprentice under in any field that you wish to pursue. My family name is older than the Malfoys', and I have my own contacts and friends of influence. For one, Albus Dumbledore will be willing to give you whatever support he can. As for the Malfoys, I have a few more questions as to their potential interest in striking up an alliance with a half-blood child of no political or social consequence."

Severus, who had been looking both pleased and relieved when Harry had given his assurance that he would do everything in his power to help the boy succeed with a promising future, now looked distinctly put-out at this summation of his attributes.

"You know I have the utmost respect for your abilities, my dear boy, but you must understand that this is how they must see you. My concern here is that the Malfoys' interest in you is only an attempt to gather information on Albus or myself."

This wasn't entirely true. Harry's main concern was that Lucius Malfoy was already recruiting to Voldemort's cause.

"But why would they care about that?" Severus had schooled his open expression of disappointment into a blank mask, but Harry had known him long enough to detect the resentment beneath. Severus had surely believed a moment ago that his own superior intelligence and abilities had set him above the other students of his year, and Lucius had reported this back to his father. Now, Harry had dashed his hopes of a bright and exciting future among the wizarding elite in one fell swoop.

"Are you aware of Mr. Malfoy's political position within the Ministry?" Harry asked.

"That's no secret," Severus said. "He's a traditionalist, lobbying for a return to old values and blood-purity."

Harry eyed him carefully, trying to get an idea of how the boy might feel about these political ideals, but there was nothing to be discerned from the boy's expression. "So, you must know then, that Mr. Malfoy is in direct opposition to Headmaster Dumbledore? Do you understand that they are political rivals?"

"What does that have to do with me going over for dinner?" Severus muttered.

"Don't be intentionally thick."

Severus scowled for just a moment before hiding his emotions away again behind his carefully composed mask.

Harry sighed. "I'm not saying that you shouldn't go," he said. Harry would very dearly like to forbid the boy from going, but didn't think that would accomplish anything other than alienating Severus. "If you want to go, then you should, but I want you to be very careful around the Malfoys. Their motives are highly suspect, and don't trust anything that Abraxas Malfoy tells you. You're very intelligent, Severus. Don't be anyone's fool." Harry paused for a moment. "There is one other thing that you should probably know."

"What is it?" Severus asked, seeing Harry's reluctance.

"Abraxas Malfoy is secretly in the service of another wizard- one named Tom Riddle, who styles himself as Lord Voldemort. Perhaps you have heard of him?"

Severus nodded.

"Riddle isn't what he appears to be. He looks like an angel, all charm and crocodile smiles, but I can assure you that he is a monster. He is the single most evil wizard that I have ever encountered. He lacks the capacity to love. I'm not entirely sure that he even has the ability to feel- not  _real_ emotions. He's capable of rage and fear. Occasionally, he makes a show of satisfaction, but I'm not sure he even actually feels it. The only thing he fears is his death, and those he thinks are capable of bringing it about. To the best of my knowledge, that amounts to two people- Dumbledore and myself. At the moment, he is gathering followers to his cause. His agenda is the complete subjugation of all muggles. Given your history with your father, I can understand why this may sound appealing to you, but I must caution you against becoming involved with Riddle in any way. It's not just muggles like your father he wants to see under wizarding rule, you see. The Evans', for instance, wouldn't be exempt. Muggleborns, like your friend Lily, wouldn't even be allowed to learn magic if Riddle rose to power.

"The man is  _dangerous_ , Severus, and the Malfoys may try to recruit you to his cause. If you go, I want you to be aware of these things, and be very careful."

"What if you're wrong though?" Severus asked. "What if Lucius just wanted to invite me to dinner because he wants to befriend me?"

"Perhaps, but a friendship with Lucius Malfoy will inherently lead to Voldemort."

Severus frowned in consideration. "I have to go. I've already accepted their invitation. If what you say is true, then I might not want Lucius as an ally, but I certainly don't want to make an enemy of him either."

Harry nodded. "That's a fair point. You probably  _should_  go, but do promise me that you'll be careful, and take anything that the Malfoys say with a grain of salt. Also, I would greatly appreciate it if you didn't tell them about anything that goes on in this cottage- anything we've been working on, or that I've been teaching you."

"What difference could that possibly make?" Severus asked.

Harry shrugged his shoulders. "Honestly, I have no idea, but I still don't feel comfortable about Abraxas Malfoy knowing what I'm up to and taking that information back to his master."

"All due respect, sir, but don't you think that you're being a little paranoid?"

"It's not paranoia, it's" Harry smiled to himself slightly, "constant vigilance. Trust me, someday you'll understand all too well. But for now, I believe that we have a potion to attend to.

oOoOoOo

Harry watched uneasily as Severus called out, "Malfoy Manor," and disappeared into the floo.

He tried to tell himself that the boy would be alright, it was only  _dinner_  after all, but the constricting feeling in his chest was hard to ignore. He wanted nothing more at that moment than to return to his own time and grill his portrait for information on this little  _dinner party_ , but he wouldn't be able to leave until the morning if he wanted to get any sleep in the next twelve hours.

Harry took his de-aging potion and poured himself a drink of scotch. He was going to take a bath and read his book for a while, he decided, then he would try his best to get some sleep.

oOoOoOo

Severus stepped out of the Malfoys' guest floo into a small foyer and was immediately greeted by a house elf.

"Welcome to Malfoy Manor," the elf said. "Are you being Master Snape or Master Avery?"

"Snape," Severus answered as the elf removed all of the soot from his robes with some sort of spell and transferred it to a small silver bucket in one hand. "Is Avery attending this evening?" Severus asked. He had thought this to be just a casual dinner.

"I is being told to expect him, sir," the elf answered. "Master Mulciber is already arrived."

Mulciber and Avery were both in Severus' year, but he'd never really gotten along with either one of them, and the invitation that he'd received from the Malfoys had made no mention of other guests.

"The guests is having drinks in the parlor until dinner is being ready," the elf continued. "I will show you there."

"Dobby can do it, Papa," a second elf squeaked. Severus hadn't even noticed him, hidden behind his father's pillowcase as he was. The tiny child-elf barely came to his father's waist.

The elder elf looked down at his son skeptically for a moment before giving him a brisk nod. "Be a good elf, Dobby."

The child beamed a smile up at his father, and then turned to Severus. "Right this way, Master Snape. Dobby is knowing the way."

Severus followed the elf through the manor. He had to shorten his stride dramatically to keep a step behind and avoid treading over the little fellow, keeping half an eye on the elf as he took in the rest of the big house.

Hogwarts had always seemed like a paradise to Severus, not only for the wealth of knowledge contained within its stone walls, but also, having grown up in poverty, the sheer scope of the place, with its wings of unused rooms and vast cavernous vaults, was awe inspiring. But, Hogwarts was cold. Even full of happy students, it reminded Severus of a sleeping beast. It was his home certainly, and held no real danger for him or the other hundreds held within, but it was a castle after all. It was fortified, a place meant to be defended- with violence if necessary. Hogwarts held nothing of the opulence of Malfoy Manor, and Severus couldn't help but be impressed.

He also felt a pang of regret. A hundred years ago, being a Prince, even a half-blood one, would have afforded him the same level of luxury. Unfortunately, Severus' forbears hadn't been nearly so careful with their fortune, and he was not afforded the privileges that should have come with a good lineage.

Dobby stopped at the door to the parlor and took a deep bow- at least, as deep a bow as one can take at a height of less than two feet. His face remained stoically professional for a moment before breaking into a wide grin. "Dobby is being at your service if you should be needing anything, Master Snape," he said before disappearing with a pop.

Severus fought a chuckle and turned his attention to the Malfoy's well-appointed parlor. There were nearly a dozen people milling about, drinks in hand, most of whom Severus recognized: Lucius, of course, and his parents, his girlfriend Narcissa and her sisters, Bellatix and older one who Severus hadn't actually met, Mulciber, Lestrange, a few Ministry cabinet members, and even a British quidditch star. Severus, pleased as he had been with his new robes only moments ago, suddenly felt a bit underdressed.

All the same, he made his way over to Lucius to greet his host.

"Ah, Severus, good of you to come," Lucius said when he caught sight of him.

"Thank you for the invitation," Severus said with a nod.

"You know Narcissa Black of course," he continued, gesturing to the young woman beside him.

She wore a floor-length black cocktail dress that glittered with some sort of charm as it caught the firelight, highlighting the diamonds that dripped from her throat. Severus fought to keep his eyes from following the line of them as they dipped into the cleft of her breasts. Instead he quickly met her eye and gave her a small smile. "You're looking particularly lovely this evening, Narcissa," he said, brushing his lips lightly across the back of her hand as she offered it to him. She gave a feminine giggle, and Severus felt quite certain that she was silently mocking him. Severus schooled his features into a bland expression and turned instead to the other man standing there.

He was in his early thirties at a guess, tall, straight, and handsome, with fine features and bright intelligent eyes that seemed to bore into the heart of Severus. It was something Severus would never tell anyone in later years, but the true reason that he fell so easily into Voldemort's ranks found its seed in that moment when he met Voldemort's eyes for the first time. Even then, he felt a thrill of fear under the man's piercing regard, but there was something else as well. It would take another year before he recognized the feeling for what it was: attraction. It wasn't entirely surprising; anyone who met him, especially in those early years, would have admitted that Riddle was charming- even beautiful. Of course, a tiger is beautiful as well, but that doesn't save it from having a predator's appetites.

"I don't believe you've met Tom," Lucius introduced. "Mr. Riddle is a colleague of my father's."

"You must be the potion prodigy I've heard so much about," Riddle said, extending his hand.

"Oh?" Severus shook the offered hand. So, this was Riddle- the man he had been warned so strongly about. He didn't seem particularly dangerous.

Riddle gave a warm chuckle, lips parting to reveal even, white teeth. "Certainly. Horace Slughorn can hardly stop singing your praises any time he can weasel me into taking lunch with him."

"Grasping old lecher," Lucius snickered. "That precious little club of his is as close as he's ever going to get to real society. He seems to think he'll be able to worm his way in if he can flatter his way into the good favor of the peerage early on."

"All the same, it is a fair indicator of future potential to earn Sluggy's good regard- like following the heron to the best fish. It's a safe wager to expect great things from you, Mr. Snape."

Severus didn't know how to respond. A tight ball of nerves had kept his stomach in a death grip since the moment he'd stepped into Peverell's floo, and now it threatened to rise up in his throat and strangle him.

Severus had a moment of relief when Avery arrived and swaggered over, saving Severus from having to mumble out some show of false modesty, but then the other boy's eyes caught on Severus and he frowned.

"What's the  _princess_  doing here?"

Severus felt his face heat and he looked down at his shoes, mind working rapidly to try to find some way to save face without upsetting his host.

Lucius shot a glare at Avery. " _Severus_  is here at my invitation, as are you. You might do well to remember."

Avery deflated, making the proper show of being mollified. "Of course, my apologies, Severus. Good to see you."

"Likewise," Severus said stiffly between clenched teeth. He'd moved quickly from embarrassment to anger and was still struggling not to make a fool of himself by rattling the glassware in a display of magical rage.

There was a clink of crystal and they turned their attention to where Abraxas stood before the fireplace. Severus had never met Lucius' father, but found himself helplessly in awe of the man, despite his heightened emotional state. Abraxas Malfoy held himself with the easy assurance of a retired general. He had all of his son's classic features, but none of the insipid arrogance that so ingrained Lucius' expression. Here was a capable man of impeccable breeding who could hold himself with pride without rubbing your face in the fact- a man that garnered respect by just entering a room. Severus wished that he'd been blessed with a father who was half the man that Abraxas Malfoy so obviously was. He chanced a glance at Lucius then and felt the jealousy he held for the other boy root itself even deeper. Lucius had been born to privilege and wealth, handsome enough to part his share of thighs with little more than a look, intelligence, charm, magic, and power. Now it seemed obvious why everything came so easily to him. If Severus' had a father like that, maybe he might have had a chance at the life Lucius took so for granted.

"I would like to thank you all for coming tonight," Abraxas said in his deep sonorous voice, "and to extend my deepest appreciation to our esteemed guest of honor- Mr. Tom Riddle, who is sure to be a bright shining star as we usher in this new era of wizardom."

Severus glanced over at the man who gave a gracious bow to their host.

"Now, if you'll all join me in the dining hall, dinner is being served."

Lady Malfoy glided gracefully over after her husband had finished speaking, and Riddle gave her a deep bow and extended his hand. "Will you allow me the honor of escorting you to dinner, Lady Malfoy."

She curtsied to Riddle and extended one pale delicate hand. He took it and led her out of the room. The rest of the guests paired off likewise, and followed. Severus watched in a bit of confusion until a sound from his side drew his attention from the door.

He looked away to see Narcissa Black standing at his shoulder, looking at him with a mixture of distaste and impatience.

"I assume you've never attended one of these functions before," she said.

Severus didn't want to seem ill-bred or unused to the ways of the upper class, but was struggling to think of some excuse to explain his ignorance. She cut him off before he could come up with something. "You're meant to be escorting me this evening," she told him. "It's considered something of an honor, as I am the intended of the host's son."

"I apologize," Severus said, extending his hand to her. "I wasn't aware. I believe my invitation may have been missing a section."

She huffed. "You should have been informed by the house elf upon your arrival."

He stalled for a moment. It would be easy enough to escape all blame in this little social faux pas by simply telling the truth- that Dobby had forgotten to relay this piece of information, but he didn't want the young elf to run afoul of his father, or the Malfoys for that matter. "Well, I… must have been taken in by the beauty of the estate and missed the details. I apologize for any inconvenience." He was attempting to sound gracious and courtly, but he had no practice at it, and the words felt awkward. He hoped he didn't sound like a complete rube.

She regarded him for a moment, obviously coming to some sort of conclusion. "You should have complimented my necklace when you offered to escort me to dinner. If you're trying to curry favor, which is,  _I assume_ , why you're here, you should have made a point of doing it in front of Lucius, and then complemented him on his choice of betrothed. When we get to the dining hall, pull out my chair for me. The ladies will sit once Lady Malfoy has seated herself, then the men wait until Abraxas congratulates his wife on the food."

Severus startled a bit at this. "Did Lady Malfoy make the food?"

Narcissa snorted. "Of course not. The house elves made the food. For an event this size, they probably hired an event planner to oversee the elves- if they don't have one on staff already."

"Oh," Severus said, "I didn't think…"

Narcissa sighed and shook her head. "Most everyone here understands your background. They won't make a huge fuss over a few lapses in social etiquette, but if you intend to continue attending these sort of functions, you'll have to learn. For some reason, Lucius seems intent on bringing you into the fold; I have no idea why. You must have impressed him somehow." She stopped to think about it for a moment. "I suppose it doesn't hurt that Sluggy's taken notice of you. He's a bit of a joke, but the man does have an eye for talent- in multiple arenas. It isn't just potions either, or you wouldn't merit his notice outside the classroom. You must have some other hidden potential the rest of us are missing. If you play your cards right, you might make out alright for yourself."

"I," Severus struggled for a response, "thank you."

"It wasn't a compliment precisely. In any case, you'll want to watch closely at dinner. Follow my example. Begin eating each course when I do, with the silver I've selected. Don't set down your napkin until you've finished a course, and for Merlin's sake, don't say or do anything obnoxious. And, you should probably try to stay clear of Avery; he doesn't seem to like you."

"That much I had figured out for myself," Severus said. "Though, I do thank you for the advice."

She nodded matter of flactly. "If tonight goes well, I'll lend you my copy of  _Madam Mackinrude's_   _Guide to Proper Etiquette and Decorum_ ," she said.

"That would be much appreciated." Severus wished that it had occurred to him to locate such a book upon accepting his invitation, but hadn't been quite aware of the formality of the event. He was just glad that Lily had insisted on taking him shopping or he probably would have made the mistake of wearing his school robes.

They were the last to arrive in the dining hall. The rest of the guests stood behind their chairs waiting. Severus was almost glad for this, because he didn't have to ask where they were supposed to sit. He took note of the alternating male and female seating arrangement and pulled out the appropriate chair for Narcissa. As soon as he had, Lady Malfoy took her seat, and the rest of the women sat as well in a rustle of silk and taffeta gowns. Severus followed the example of the rest of the men present, and pushed Narcissa's chair in.

"I don't think I'm alone in complimenting my beautiful wife on putting together such an excellent feast," Abraxas said, and there was a polite round of applause. Then Lord Malfoy took his seat, across the long banquet table from his lady wife, and Severus and the other men took their chairs.

"Easy enough so far," Narcissa leaned in to tell him. "Allow me to introduce my eldest sister, Andromeda," she continued, gesturing to Severus' right. "I believe she graduated before you began attending Hogwarts."

Severus smiled at the kindly young woman sitting beside him and offered his hand. "Severus Snape," he introduced himself, "it's a pleasure to meet you."

"And you," she agreed.

"Severus is somewhat new to formal dining, Andie," Narcissa said in a whisper, "try to steer him in the right direction if you see him tripping up, will you?"

"Of course," Andromeda agreed. She gave him a smile with no hint of ridicule or condescension. "You're doing quite well so far."

Narcissa nodded and, having pawned the responsibility of Severus off on her sister, turned her attention to Riddle on her left.

A moment later, there was a gentle tinkling of bells and the first course, a small shrimp cocktail, appeared on their plates.

oOoOoOo

Harry had taken his de-aging potion and settled into his customary bath with a book and a glass of scotch. Portrait Severus had recommended that he read H.G. Wells'  _The Time Machine_ , half as a joke Harry suspected, but he'd found it surprisingly enjoyable and not a little informative.

He wasn't reading now though. The book rested open in one hand, and he was looking at the page, but his attention was elsewhere. His fingers drummed against the porcelain side of the claw foot tub. There was something niggling at him, but he couldn't quite put his finger on what it was. Certainly he was a little concerned that Severus might be getting himself in over his head with the Malfoys, or setting down the wrong path, but this was something else. He just wished that he knew what it was.

He pressed his palm flat against the side of the tub to stop his fingers from twitching; cool condensation ran over the back of his hand. Harry closed his eyes, trying to clear his mind, let out a long sigh, and took a sip of scotch- trying to focus again on the words on the page.

oOoOoOo

Andromeda Black was the only woman Severus had ever met, apart from his mother, who didn't seem to like talking about herself. She was more than happy to converse on any number of other topics though, and seemed to be quite well versed in herbology.

Severus finished his second course, a creamy potato soup, and set down his soup spoon. He placed his napkin over the bowl, which, he had learned, signaled the house elves that he was finished with that course. A moment later, the dirty bowl disappeared and was replaced with a clean plate. Not long after, once everyone had finished the second course, a fillet of lake trout appeared on the plate.

"Do you have plans once you've finished school?" Andromeda asked, taking a bite of her own trout.

"No plans exactly," Severus said. "I've been helping..." Severus stopped short. He had been about to explain his work with Peverell and how he was secretly hoping to be offered an apprenticeship after he graduated, but then he remembered Mr. Peverell's request that Severus not discuss anything that they were working on.

"Helping who?" Andromeda prompted- with no more than polite interest. At least she didn't seem to be probing for information.

"Oh, my neighbor," he said offhandedly. "He's going a bit dotty. I thought I might go into research; perhaps find a cure for dementia."  _There, that should be safe enough_ , he thought. It wasn't entirely a lie either; the old man had seemed to be fraying a bit around the edges. He was always referring to conversations that Severus had never had with the man, and once he had called him Professor.

"Dementia?" she asked with a little frown.

Severus paled, realizing that the old person's ailment was a strictly muggle concept. "You know," he covered quickly, as though it were simply a gap in her knowledge, "memory loss associated with old age."

"Oh, yes," she nodded. "Perhaps another variant to address behavioral changes as well? My aunt has gone a bit  _demented_  since her… well… her  _change of life_  to be perfectly frank."

Severus looked away and fidgeted with his napkin, trying not to appear embarrassed. "I don't really have any experience with that."

She gave a little chuckle. "You should count yourself lucky then."

Severus didn't really know how to respond, so he set into his fish. It occurred to him that food could mask all manner of social awkwardness, and wondered at how simple life could be if all of his conversations took place over dinner.

He caught a drift of conversation then. It was Riddle. "I'm not saying that we should put all the muggles to death or anything like that. Muggles can serve their purpose. It's just all of this  _kowtowing_  that turns my stomach. The Statute of Secrecy is the greatest piece of hippogriff dung to ever pass through the wizengamot. The very idea that a wizard or, forgive me Lady Malfoy, a witch, should care enough about what some  _muggle_  thinks about us to bother going about all this trouble hiding our existence. The muggles should live in fear of magic. Maybe then they would know to show the proper respect!"

Severus heard a snort from beside him and turned to Andromeda. "You disagree?" he asked.

She looked like she desperately wanted to attest to the fact, but instead she just said, "I was raised to believe that it was poor manners to discuss politics at dinner. You may add that little tidbit to your repertoire of social niceties."

Severus just nodded. He didn't really disagree with Riddle, but he didn't feel as strongly about it as he did either. Certainly it was easier if the muggles didn't know about them, but at the same time, a wizard shouldn't have to set his own best interests aside for the sake of the muggles either. He thought of his father and grimaced. He dropped his napkin onto his plate even though he wasn't even half finished. He was happy enough to see it gone, and stared down into his empty plate.

"These days there are so many mud-bloods getting into Hogwarts," Lady Malfoy observed. "They haven't been raised with our ways. They don't understand our customs. It simply isn't fair to teach them alongside the children from the old wizarding families. Surely they cannot be held to the same standards? I understand that many of these children are little better than muggles themselves. We shouldn't be forced to expose our own children to that just for the sake of an education. It used to be that you at least had the option of sending them to Durmstrang, but I hear that they've started admitting mud-bloods now as well!"

Severus just continued to stare at his plate. Sure his mother had been from one of the old wizarding families, but he hadn't been raised much differently than most of the muggle-borns at school.

A cut of roast beast with potatoes and vegetables appeared on his plate, and he started picking at it, but much of the savor was gone from his dinner.

The roast was replaced with wild pheasant, which then gave way to a light garden salad. Severus remained mostly silent throughout, and Andromeda seemed content enough to talk to her brother-in-law on her right. She didn't return her attentions to him until dessert was served- a light whipped pudding with pineapple, and a small assortment of chocolate truffles.

"I'll say one thing for the Malfoys," she said, sucking a bit of chocolate from the tip of one finger. "They really know how to throw a party."

Severus nodded, taking a sip of his demitasse. "Yes, everything has been very delicious. Though, I have no experience with fine dining."

"The food more than makes up for all the stodgy etiquette. It's the main reason I attend these things," she confided in a low whisper. "In a moment, Abraxas will invite the men to join him in the smoking parlor, and the women will retire to the main parlor to play bridge. That's the other reason I come. If my luck holds, I should retire for the evening with a considerably heavier purse."

"There's going to be gambling?" Severus asked. He momentarily panicked. He'd spent most of his money on the robes he now wore, and it had never occurred to him to bring along what little he did have left. He had a few muggle notes in his wallet. Every once in a while, his father would run out of liquor while Severus was out, and he would bar the door until Severus returned with a bottle, but he didn't have a single knut of wizarding money on him. He thought it would be far more embarrassing to try to play with muggle money than to say he didn't have any with him.

"Oh no," Andromeda said. "The men will be drinking, smoking, and discussing politics, while the women play cards and cluck over marriage prospects. Undoubtedly, equally boring whichever side of the manor you end up on."

Severus spared her a little smile, hidden from the rest of the company by the lip of his coffee mug. He liked Andromeda, but imagined that she would never be invited to the party if she wasn't Narcissa and Bellatrix's sister. She was just a little too outspoken and disdainful of what would be considered polite society.

As Andromeda had predicted, dinner was cleared and they were dismissed to separate ends of the house. Severus trailed a bit behind the rest of the men as they entered the smoking parlor, keeping to himself until Lucius strode over and handed him a glass of brandy.

"Did Narcissa provide adequate company over dinner?" Lucius asked, holding out a silver cigarette case.

Severus had never smoked in his life, but he took one anyway to be polite, and Lucius lit it with a silver lighter picked out in chips of emerald. Severus took a puff and did his best to mask the resulting cough.

"Ah, yes," Severus said, getting his breath back. "Andromeda was quite entertaining as well."

Lucius scoffed. "Dreadful, isn't she? She comes from such a good family, and yet she insists on associating with mud-bloods."

"Mud-bloods?" Severus asked, thinking of Lily.

"She's been sneaking around with some mud-blood since she was at Hogwarts. They haven't married yet, but Narcissa tells me it's only a matter of time. They're living together now, and she'll be pregnant with his bastard before you know it. You can't expect these low-level mud-bloods to be able to master a simple contraceptive charm, and even if he can he's bound to be scheming his way into her family any way he can think of."

Severus made a non-committal noise and tried another puff of his cigarette. He managed to inhale without coughing this time, but the smoke burned his throat, and the taste made him feel a little queasy.

"Mr. Snape," Riddle said as he drifted over, flashing Severus a charming smile. "I was hoping to get another chance to speak with you this evening. I've been hearing the most extraordinary rumors about your neighbor. I'm curious to hear what you think."

"What neighbor is that?" Severus asked. He knew full well which neighbor Riddle was talking about, and his stomach clenched.

"The one who claims to be a Peverell," Riddle said.

"Claims?" Severus frowned.

"Yes, well, the Peverell name died out centuries ago. The line remains of course. I myself can trace my lineage back to Cadmus Peverell, so I was curious. I enjoy studying genealogy, you see. Now, either your good friend Mr. Peverell is simply claiming a name he has no right to, or, like me, he can trace his lineage back to the Peverell family and has adopted the name as an homage. In which case, he may be a long lost relative. I don't have any family left, since my father and grandparents died in a tragic accident last summer, so I would greatly like to get in touch if that is the case." Riddle paused to take a sip of his brandy. "I've tried to trace him myself, but I haven't been able to find anything earlier than 1969. It's like he just appeared out of nowhere. I can't even determine how old he is. Some records show that he's over one hundred, but the Minister tells me that he's met the man and doesn't believe him to be a day over forty-five. It's all very perplexing."

"He's definitely older than forty-five. I don't know about the name, but you're probably related. Most of the old families are, if you trace it back far enough. We're probably related too." Severus looked down at his cigarette and watched as the ash from the end fell toward the floor and disappeared before it hit the carpet. He was trying his best to divert Riddle's questions, but there was just something about the man that made it had to lie- something about the way he smiled.

"You're probably right," Riddle agreed. "I just thought that it was strange. He's a friend of Albus Dumbledore's is he not?"

"Er," Severus stumbled for an answer. "I think they might have tea together sometimes."

Riddle nodded and flashed Severus another one of those smiles. "That makes sense at least. Perhaps he's just a crazy old codger like Dumbledore, it's no wonder that they would get on- probably in bed together."

Severus forced a laugh. He tried his cigarette again as a diversionary tactic more than anything else. He found it a bit more enjoyable this time, and followed it with another sip of his brandy.

"Well, I won't keep you from your friends any longer," Riddle smiled at Lucius. "Thank you for helping to clear up a few things, Severus. It was very nice meeting such a bright young wizard this evening. I hope to be seeing more of you in the future." Then he walked away, joining Abraxas and some of the other older wizards.

"I didn't know Dumbledore was a shirt-lifter, did you?"

"Hm," Severus had been watching Riddle and now turned his attention back to Lucius. "Oh, yeah well, I'd heard there was something going on between him and Grindlewald."

Lucius looked surprised at the news but made no comment.

oOoOoOo

Harry finally got out of the bath, having long since abandoned his book and finished his scotch. He still can't help that niggling feeling that he's forgetting something even as he dries himself off, dropping the wet towel onto the floor and wrapping himself in his dressing gown.

He still feels wide awake, so he decides to forgo the bedroom, and instead flops down onto the couch, flicking his wand at the grate to relight the fire. He wishes that he could go back to his own time. He just knows that he won't be able to sleep tonight, and at least if he was at Hogwarts he would have Severus to talk to.

He should have paid Dumbledore a visit after Severus had left. He hadn't dropped in on the Headmaster yet since he'd been back, and they had things to discuss. It might have given him something else to think about. He has to figure out a way of convincing Albus to go to Nurmengard to visit Grindelwald. He only had a vague outline of a plan, but he knew that it was of the utmost importance that Dumbledore and Grindelwald make amends.

It just wasn't going to be easy to convince Dumbledore.

Thoughts of wands, and prison fortresses, and dark wizards, chased each other around in his head as he dozed off.

oOoOoOo

Severus was more than happy to leave when he noticed that the younger wizards were starting to make their excuses and head home. He thanked Lucius for inviting him and made his farewells, letting out a sigh of relief when he was alone in the hall.

It wasn't that he hadn't enjoyed himself. He had. It had been wonderful to be a part of wizarding high society- even if for only a night. The food had been delicious, and just the whole spectacle of a formal dinner party was wonderful to experience, but this hadn't exactly been what he was expecting when he'd left Peverell's cottage earlier in the evening. He felt like he's been walking a knife edge all night. One little slip-up could have cost him everything. And, he still wasn't sure what to think of Riddle. The man was charming, sure enough, and his favor could help Severus a lot when he graduated, but Severus no longer believed that Peverell was being paranoid about Riddle. He'd seemed far too curious about the old man.

And, Peverell had a few things to answer for once Severus got back as well. Riddle's questions had brought up some interesting points. It wasn't the first time that Severus had been told that all the Peverells were dead, and if the old man was lying about who he was, then Severus wanted to know why.

Severus entered the empty floo parlor and pulled some powder out of the fancy urn on the mantle. He tossed it into the fire and stepped in. "Peverell's cottage," he said clearly.

He whirled around in the grate, but when the smoke cleared and he stepped out, he was still in the Malfoy's floo parlor.

He frowned, grabbed another handful of powder, and tried again. The result was the same, and Severus felt his heart begin to pound in his chest. Either the Malfoys had a bad batch of floo powder, highly unlikely, or Peverell had forgotten that Severus would need to return tonight and had locked the floo.

Severus didn't even know what part of Britain the Malfoys lived in. He had no idea how to go about getting home by non-magical means. He tasted bile in his throat at the thought that he'd have to find Lucius and explain that he couldn't floo home because his neighbor had locked him out and his own house wasn't on the network.

That it wasn't on the network because it was a  _muggle_  house in a  _muggle_  neighborhood and his  _muggle_ father didn't approve of magic.

The panic really started to set in then. Severus thought he was going to throw up on the Malfoys' expensive Persian rug.

oOoOoOo

Harry was startled awake by a burst of magic at the edge of his senses. It was like a flashbulb had gone off in his brain. He suddenly sat up on the couch, fully awake. He made a mental check of his wards and, finding them intact, dismissed it as a bad dream.

That wasn't unusual; anyone who had made it through a war was bound to have the occasional nightmare. He was just glad that he hadn't woken in a cold sweat like he usually did. He stretched and swung his legs over the edge of the couch. His mouth felt thick and fuzzy. He would get up, drink a glass of water, and then go back to sleep in his bed like a normal person.

oOoOoOo

"Locked out, Mr. Snape?"

Severus stopped panicking long enough to look up and see Riddle, and then he started again. "Yes… I… Well, he must have forgotten that I was going to be coming back and locked the floo after I left."

"You don't have a floo key?" Riddle asked, frowning.

"Er, no, I must have forgotten it at home," Severus lied.

"I'd be happy to apparate you home," Riddle offered. "I was just heading home myself. It wouldn't be an imposition."

That wouldn't work at all. Severus didn't want Riddle to see the run-down shack he called home, and he was sure that Peverell wouldn't want Riddle to know where he lived either. "I'll just try floo calling," Severus said. "That shouldn't be locked. Maybe I can wake someone up."

He didn't actually have any hope that Peverell's floo would be open for calls as he threw in another handful of powder and knelt on the hearth, but it would at least buy him some time to think of somewhere else to have Riddle take him. There had to be somewhere that he would be able to get home from without being caught in the lie. Maybe he could just go to Hogwarts. Dumbledore was sure to help him, but then he didn't think that would go over very well with Riddle either. He could go to Diagon Alley and walk to the train station. He doubted that there were still trains running this late, and he didn't have enough money for a cab, but he could probably sleep in the station until the trains started again- unless someone took him for a vagrant, or some beggar started harassing him. Would he get expelled from Hogwarts or charged for misuse of magic if he had to hex a hobo?

He could have cried with relief when the call went through, and he found himself looking into Peverell's darkened sitting room.

oOoOoOo

"Uh, hello? Mr. Pe…er…um, hello?"

Harry jumped at the sudden voice and almost dropped his glass of water. He looked over at the fireplace and saw Severus looking back at him, and then he did drop it. Turning away quickly, he fumbled in the cupboard for his aging potion, cursing.

It was probably too dark for the boy to see him, but there was no way to be sure. Then another voice floated through the fire and Harry stopped cold, his breath caught in his throat, and he felt a trickle of ice run down his spine.

"Really, if you can't wake anyone, I'd be more than happy to apparate you."

Voldemort.

It had been more than three years since Harry had heard that voice and he still couldn't help but be galvanized with fear. Sometimes, when he was busy working on potions with Severus or having tea with Dumbledore, it was easy to forget that he was living in a time where Voldemort was walking around breathing, free to do whatever he pleased.

_Free to side-along apparate with Severus._

Right to Harry's front door if he wanted.

That thought brought him back into action quickly. He found the potion bottle, hoping to whatever higher powers may be that it was the right one. The pain of aging proved that it was, and Harry hardly paused to adjust before running over to the fireplace.

"Severus! I'm so sorry. I'll unlock the floo now. Come on through."

"Okay, yeah, thanks."

There was an odd tone in the boy's voice, and Harry started to worry that Severus had seen him at his true age. There was no time to think about it now though. Severus' face disappeared from the fire, and Harry quickly cast the spell to unlock the wards.

oOoOoOo

Severus rose to his feet and tried to put on an embarrassed smile for Riddle's benefit. "Should be all fixed now," he said. "Thank you for the help though."

"Not a problem at all," Riddle said, flashing that smile again. He put a hand on Severus' shoulder, and Severus felt his stomach flip. "It really was very nice meeting you, Severus."

"You as well, Mr. Riddle," Severus said, not entirely sure why that hand on his shoulder made him feel so uncomfortable. "Thanks again. I'd better get going."

Severus grabbed a handful of floo powder from the Malfoys' urn for the fourth time, and finally flooed back to Peverell's cottage.

oOoOoOo

The moment he stepped out of the grate he was enveloped into the old man's embrace. It felt nearly as awkward as Riddle's hand on his shoulder, and Severus tried to pull away, but Peverell was holding him too tightly.

Finally the old man let him go, and Severus looked up at him, frowning. "What's that for then?"

"I'm just relieved," Harry said.

"Right." Severus gave him a funny look. "Is it alright if I stay here tonight?"

Harry flicked his wand at the couch and transfigured it into a decent sized bed.

"I guess that's a yes then." Severus favored him with that inscrutable look again. "Look, I'm tired, so I'm going to go to sleep, but there are a few things we need to talk about in the morning."

Harry watched as Severus walked over to the bed and started unbuttoning his robes. He was at a loss for how to respond, so he retreated to the safety of his bedroom, giving the boy his privacy.

He lay awake for long hours that night, unable to sleep, the least of it being the discomfort of trying to sleep in his hundred year old body.

oOoOoOo

The next morning Severus was unusually silent as he fetched the milk and began making their morning tea. Finally, when he had set a cup down in front of Harry and taken his seat across the table, Harry was forced to break the silence.

"Quid pro quo?" Harry asked.

"No," Severus said. "You haven't been completely honest with me. I want answers. I'm going to be asking all the questions, and if I find out that you're lying to me again, then… well… I think that might be it."

"I might not be able to answer everything," Harry said. He'd been chasing himself around in circles all night, at one moment believing that Severus must have seen him in his younger form, at the next convincing himself that he was just being paranoid. He'd come up with a dozen possible explanations, but now they all fell flat. He didn't want to lie to Severus anymore than he absolutely had to, and he didn't want to risk alienating the boy.

"If you can't answer everything, that's fine, just don't lie, okay?"

"Alright."

"Who are you?"

Right off the mark, and he couldn't possibly answer honestly. "I'm your friend, Severus."

"But what's your name. It can't be Peverell."

"It doesn't say Peverell on my birth certificate, no, but I am a descendent of the Peverells, through the line of Ignotus."

Severus frowned. "You're related to Riddle then?"

Harry nodded.

"Why don't you want anyone to know who you really are?"

"It would be too dangerous."

"You have enemies?"

"Yes."

"Riddle?"

"Yes."

Severus paused to think for a while. "Does Dumbledore know your real name?"

"No, but he understands why I'm here and why it would be bad for anyone to know who I really am. Albus trusts me."

"So I should too then?" Severus asked with a little sneer.

"I would appreciate it," Harry answered.

"Why does the minister of magic think that you're in your forties."

It took a moment for Harry to even remember when he had ever met the minister of magic. "He once saw me in Albus' office. I had taken a de-aging potion, so that is how old I appeared to be."

"How old does Dumbledore think you are?"

"I don't know. Albus has a lot of theories about me. He's never asked how old I am, but throughout our interactions, I have always appeared to be in my late thirties."

"Why?"

"It is more comfortable to be a younger man. I would do it all the time, but de-aging potions can become highly addictive, and there are side-effects." This was of course absolutely true, but since he had never aged himself younger than his actual age, those risks didn't apply to him. Severus of course didn't need to know that. Harry only hoped the boy didn't think to ask him what his true age was.

"Is there anything else you've been lying to me about?" Severus asked.

"Other than my name, I can't ever remember lying to you, Severus," Harry said. "I'm very sorry that I can't tell you the truth about who I am, but I promise that if it ever becomes possible I will tell you everything. In the meantime, I hope that you can trust my judgment in the matter, and that I can trust your discretion."

Severus let out a long sigh. "Okay. That's okay, for now." He nodded, seeming to try to convince himself.

"May I ask you a question now?" Harry asked.

The boy nodded.

"Will you tell me about everything that happened with Riddle last night?"

Severus launched into an account of everything that had happened the night before at Malfoy Manor. By the end Harry had all of his worst fears confirmed. It seemed clear that Voldemort had begun recruiting at Hogwarts and that Severus was one of those he had his sights set on. It also seemed that Harry had made it onto Voldemort's radar to a far greater degree than he had ever thought possible. Not for the first time, he cursed himself for not choosing the surname Jones, or maybe Smith- possibly paired with John.

"I think perhaps we should start working on the antivenin again," Harry suggested when Severus was finished recounting his tale. Harry no longer felt confident that he would be safe remaining in this timeline until Severus had graduated. He decided that the potion was now of the utmost importance. If all of his other contingencies failed, at least Severus would have that.

They began work, and by the time Severus left for the day, they had another batch ready for animal trials. Harry just hoped that it worked this time.

oOoOoOo

August, 2005

Harry was on his way back to the castle after quidditch practice. He was the relief seeker for the national team, and although he'd only been actually called on to play half a dozen times, with mixed results, he never missed a practice over the summer, and attended whenever possible throughout the school year.

He had his broom held under one arm as he mounted the stone steps, and he longed for nothing more than a shower and a cold beer, but Neville caught him in the entrance hall.

"Hey, Harry, do you have a minute?"

Harry groaned. "Sure, Neville, what do you need?"

"I'm having trouble convincing the families of a few of the new muggle-born students to let them attend. We need to schedule some in home visits, maybe a tour of the campus."

"Yeah, come up to my office and I can look over my schedule. We'll set something up."

Neville followed Harry up to the third floor with his usual silent resignation. He normally avoided the Headmaster's office whenever possible. The man had been dead for seven years, and Neville still couldn't manage to face Severus Snape. Harry considered mentioning the fact that he'd moved Severus' portrait to his private rooms, but didn't really feel like explaining why, so he let it be.

Harry smiled a bit at Neville's obvious relief when they entered his office and Severus was notably absent. Harry took a seat behind his desk and began flipping through the leather-bound book he used as his day planner.

Neville was looking around at the portraits on the wall and asked, "Where do you have your portrait stashed away?"

Harry looked up at that. " _Mine_? Why would I have one?"

Neville laughed. "You are a Hogwarts Headmaster. Someday you'll be up on that wall too."

"Well yeah, but I'm not dead yet."

"How are you going to have your portrait painted after you're dead?"

"Painted?" Harry frowned. "I thought the portraits just sort of appeared once a headmaster dies."

Neville shook his head, chuckling. "Sometimes I forget how little you know about certain things. The portraits don't just appear. They're painted while the subject is still alive, obviously. The painter casts an enchantment that tethers the portrait to the subject, and then when the subject dies, a little piece of their soul is left behind in the portrait. That's when the portrait becomes active and appears on the wall."

"So, I have to put a piece of my soul in the painting?" Harry asked uncertainly. "Wouldn't that be dark magic- like making a horcrux?"

Neville shook his head. "No. You just tether the portrait to yourself while you're alive. The piece of your soul doesn't go into the portrait until you're dead. The rest of your soul moves on to the afterlife, and just that little piece is left behind. The ghost of a ghost sort of."

"Oh, okay. I think I understand."

"I can commission someone for you if you want," Neville offered. "Most artists consider it an honor to do someone's portrait. Is there anyone in particular you'd want to commission?"

"There's an artist in London that I like. Her name is Lissandra Elegrante. She has a shop off Diagon."

Neville pulled out a scrap of parchment and took down her name, and then they went over Harry's schedule and made appointments to meet with the unconfirmed students. After that they scheduled the start of term staff meeting, and individual teacher meetings to discuss curriculum changes.

By the time Neville left, Harry's calendar was starting to look very full. He let out a sigh and got up from his chair, muscles aching in protest. He walked through to his personal quarters, intending to talk to Severus for no more than a minute before he headed for the shower.

Unfortunately, it seemed that he was doomed to remain covered in sweat for the rest of eternity.

"Your telephone has been having some kind of fit. Please see to it before I completely lose what's left of my sanity," Severus said the moment Harry walked through the door.

Harry looked over to the side table where his mobile was buzzing loudly as it vibrated toward the edge. Harry picked it up and answered, putting Severus out of his misery.

"Hello?" Harry said.

"Hello, Harry? Thank god. Where have you been? I've been trying to call you for hours." Dudley sounded near to complete panic.

"I was at quidditch practice. What's wrong?"

"It's Deckland. He's done something to Donna. I don't know what to do. I was about ready to call the cops, or emergency services, but I don't think they can do anything."

"Slow down, Dudley. Relax. Tell me what happened."

"We were arguing. In the kitchen. Deckland was sitting in the hall on the steps, and I kept telling Donna to keep her voice down. That we shouldn't argue in front of the children. But, she just wouldn't let up. Then Deckland started screaming, and… Donna,… she just went mute." Dudley paused for a long moment. "Harry, I think he did it. Deckland. I think he's a wizard."

Harry couldn't help the laugh that escaped his lips. He held the phone away from him and let out a slow breath to get back under control. "Dudley. Relax. It will be okay. I'll be over in a minute and we'll get everything taken care of."

"Right, right, okay."

"Okay, I'll see you in a minute."

Harry ended the call and turned to Severus. "So, it turns out that my nephew is a wizard after all."

Severus raised an eyebrow.

"He just cast an accidental silencing spell on his mother. I'm not entirely sure that I should reverse it. Seems to me that it would be a vast improvement."

"Shouldn't someone from the ministry have been dispatched to handle the situation?"

"They're registered as muggle relatives of a magical family. The ministry doesn't monitor them for that sort of thing."

"Best go take care of it then."

Harry nodded. "Guess I'll see you later then."

oOoOoOo

Harry arrived outside the Dursley's house in Croyden and knocked on the front door. He heard footsteps inside, and Lucy pulled the door open.

"Uncle Harry! Are you here to help mummy?"

"I sure am," Harry agreed. "Where is she?"

"She's in the kitchen," Lucy answered, leading him down the hall. "I think she's really angry."

Harry stepped into the kitchen and had to agree. Donna Dursley had an expression on her face that would have rivaled the one Petunia wore whenever Harry had had one of his own accidental magical outbursts as a child.

"Are you going to be able to fix her?" Dudley asked.

"Yeah, It's just a silencing charm- not a big deal. It's not like he blew her up or gave her a tail or anything."

"That's not really funny Harry," Dudley said, but he was smiling a little. "I remember that toffee I got off the twins."

"The ton tongue?" Harry laughed. "I'd forgotten about that one. It serves you right for eating off the floor." Harry pulled a vial from the pocket of his robes, realizing how ridiculous he must look to her- still in his quidditch gear. "Here, Donna, drink this," he said, handing her the potion.

She refused to take it, keeping her mouth in a thin line of defiance.

"Just drink it, Donna. Harry's here to help." Dudley turned to Harry. "I've tried to explain everything to her, but she doesn't seem to be taking it very well. I can't be exactly sure."

Donna's lips moved in an angry diatribe, but no sound emerged. She glared at Dudley and took the vial. She drank it and then tried to talk again, but still no noise came out.

"It didn't work," Dudley seemed close to panic again. "Why didn't it work, Harry?"

"That was just a calming draught," Harry said, pulling his wand out of his sleeve. "I thought it might be a good idea to get her to relax a bit before I give her her voice back."

Dudley gave Harry a look that he took to be agreement.

Harry pointed his wand at Donna and cast the necessary counter-charm. "That should do it. How are you feeling, Donna?"

"I…" She paused, surprised to actually hear her own voice. "I'm fine."

"Good, now we need to discuss Deckland. Something like this is quite likely to happen again. I'll have you added to the ministry registry for magical children from muggle homes. They'll monitor the house for magical activity and send someone over to handle the situation if they detect anything, but you can always call me again if you need to. You'll also be issued a portkey for St. Mungo's; that's the wizard hospital in London. There are certain illnesses that only affect wizards. A muggle doctor won't be able to treat them. You should probably start taking him there for his checkups as well."

"Sure," Donna agreed.

"Maybe you'd like to lay down for a nap, Donna. You've had a long day."

"Yes," Donna agreed, and she rose from the table and left the kitchen.

"Geez," Dudley said. "What did you do to her, Harry?"

"It will wear off before morning. I'm afraid you'll have to deal with her then."

"Could you just leave me with a lifetime supply of that stuff?"

"Sorry, no. I probably shouldn't have even given her that. Are you okay with all of this?"

Dudley shrugged. "I love my kids. If one of them happens to be a wizard, well, that doesn't really change much."

"Lucy hasn't shown any signs?"

"No, but I'll be on the lookout now. I suppose I should have expected something like this. It is genetic isn't it?"

Harry shrugged. "Not really sure. Genetics is more of a muggle science, but it does seem to run in families."

Dudley nodded. "What should I tell Deckland?"

Harry looked around the room as if expecting to see the boy. "Where is Deckland anyway?"

"Sleeping. He got really tired after he silenced Donna."

Harry nodded. "That's normal. It takes a lot of energy to do accidental magic. Once the adrenaline wears off, it causes fatigue. He'll probably sleep through the night now, but he should be feeling fine tomorrow. As far as what to tell him… the truth I guess. Be as open and honest as you can. Explain that sometimes young wizards can't control their power. I'm planning to have some new students come for a tour of the castle in a couple of weeks, maybe you can join us with Deckland. We can go to Hogsmede afterward and he can experience a little of the magical world. It might help him to feel more normal."

"That's a good idea. We should bring Lucy along too though. I don't want her to feel left out. They're so close. I don't want this to cause a rift between them like it did for mum and Lily."

"I hope that doesn't happen." Harry stood from the table. "I think everything is under control here, and I'm in rather desperate need of a shower, so unless there's anything else you need, I think I'll head back."

"Okay."

"I'll stop by sometime tomorrow, and we can sit down with the whole family and talk about this, but I think it's best to let everything settle down for now. It will be easier once everyone is rested and has had some time to let it all sink in."

Dudley walked Harry to the door. "Thank you for coming over. I don't know what I would have done on my own."

"Actually, this sort of thing is kind of part of my job. Usually with older kids, and mostly just explaining Hogwarts and magic, but it's actually a good sign that Deckland is showing signs so young. He should be quite talented one day."

Dudley laughed a bit. "Here I thought I was done worrying about swollen tongues and sprouting tails. What am I going to do if he decides he doesn't want to eat his peas?"

Harry laughed. "You'll figure it out. It really shouldn't happen unless he's very upset. Try not to argue in front of him anymore."

Dudley nodded, and Harry gave him an affectionate pat on the shoulder. "I'll see you tomorrow then," he said, and apparated directly into his bathroom.

oOoOoOo

Harry stepped out of the bathroom, toweling off his wet hair with the towel that should have been wrapped around his waist in decent company. It was only Severus waiting for him though, lounging on the bed in his portrait on the wall over Harry's bed.

"I really think we need to add another portrait in the bathroom," he said.

"Oh, pressing need to see me bathe?"

"I could hear you wanking."

"Yeah," Harry said, "Sorry. It's just been a really long day, and I didn't feel much like making a production of it." He flopped down on the bed, still naked and let out a long moan of satisfaction. "I think I might be getting too old to play quidditch professionally."

"But, if you quit, however will you keep your girlish figure?"

Harry snorted and threw one of his pillows at Severus' frame without even looking up.

"You missed," Severus informed him. "Maybe you should stop playing quidditch; your hand-eye coordination is obviously deteriorating. How did things go with your nephew?"

"Better than I would have expected. I didn't have a chance to talk to him though. He was sleeping."

"Magical fatigue?"

"Most likely. I'll go over there sometime tomorrow and talk to him about it. I think everything should work out okay though. Dudley's going to have his hands full with that one- only five, and he put a full silencing charm on his mother. I don't think I displayed any signs of magic until I was at least seven, at least not that I remember. I'll have to ask Aunt Petunia if I can catch her in a good mood."

"I wonder what her reaction will be to having a magical grandchild."

Harry sat up on his elbows. "I hadn't thought of that. It's probably a good thing that Uncle Vernon isn't around anymore. I suppose she'll start favoring Lucy."

"That might not be a bad course of action. It's always difficult when one child is magical and the other isn't. Lily and Petunia weren't the only siblings to ever have a falling out over it."

Harry let out a long sigh and flopped back down onto the bed again. "I guess it's just one more thing for me to worry over. I really wish you could just step out of that portrait and come lay down next to me. I could really use a snuggle."

"A snuggle? Even if I could, what in Merlin's name makes you think that I'm the kind of person who snuggles?"

"What if it was a post-coital snuggle?"

"I thought you already handled that in the shower."

"I did," Harry yawned. "I did. Just tired. But, I haven't hardly even talked to you today. Want you next to me so I can spend time with you." He yawned again.

"Go to sleep, Harry. I'll be here in the morning."

"Have to go in the morning," Harry said around another yawn. "Have to get Severus on the train."

"He'll keep. Stay here an extra day. Get your nephew sorted out, and then come back and just spend some time here relaxing. You don't have to work every hour of the day. This is supposed to be your summer break."

Harry laughed. "Every other day is summer hols. Either that or it's Christmas." Harry groaned. "Next week is Christmas again. I'm so sick of cooking Christmas dinner."

"What year is it again?"

In his half- sleeping state, Harry had to think about it for a while. "1974?"

"The Evans' are going to invite the two of you over for Christmas dinner." Severus told him. "You're free of cooking duty. Though, you should bring over a bottle of wine."

Harry grinned. "Thank you Grandma Evans."

"I wouldn't recommend calling her that."

"What is my Grandmother's first name?"

Severus thought for a moment. "I believe it is Rose."

"They certainly seem to be going with a flower theme then. If we ever adopt any kids, we'll have to name them Aconite and Wormwood."

Severus rolled his eyes, solely for his own benefit, as Harry wasn't actually looking at him. "Go to sleep, Potter."


	9. Chapter Nine

 

 

August, 2005

 

            “Please do hold still, Headmaster.”

            “Sorry,” Harry said, “my nose itches a bit.” He was standing on the other side of Lissandra’s easel. He very much wanted to see what she was painting. Severus was looming in his frame behind her, and he kept shooting Harry smug looks.

            Lissandra held her brush away from the canvas and stepped back. “Okay, go ahead and scratch away. I need a bit of a break anyway.”

            “Do you want me to send a house elf for tea?”

            “That would be wonderful.”

            Harry called for Kreecher and asked the elf to bring up tea and a light snack. When the elf came back he had a large tray laden with everything for tea and enough food to feed a small army- or the entire Weasley brood, which petty much amounted to the same thing. Harry thanked him and set about making tea.

            Lissandra was wandering about the room looking at how her paintings were hung. “You know, I wasn’t quite sure what you were going for when you commissioned these, but I have to say that I like the effect. It really opens up the room.

            “Er, no. Well, yeah, they do, but they’re for Severus.”

            “Sever… oh.” She looked up at Severus’ portrait. “That’s really quite clever. Hello, professor. I don’t know if you remember me, but..”

            “I certainly do, and I have to say that I’m glad to see that your talent for painting more than makes up for your lack of skill in potions.”

            “Thank you. I think,” she said, “though, I do mix all my own paints, so not everything you taught me has gone to waste. A lot of the techniques are the same.”

            “I’m glad to hear it.”

            “I’m curious; the first painting that I did, the liquor cabinet. Does it work? I mean, does the alcohol taste right?”

            Severus went to the painting in question and poured himself a glass. “The scotch tastes like scotch, the brandy tastes like brandy, and the wine tastes like heaven,” he assured her, lifting his glass. “I’d offer you some, but well..” Severus swirled the liquid in his glass and took a sip.

            “Does it work? Can you get intoxicated?”

            “Oh yeah,” Harry said, coming to stand next to her and handing her a cup of tea.

            Lissandra glanced between the two of them, and then looked at the unfinished canvas and made a speculative sound.

            “What is it?” Harry asked.

            She waved him off. “Nothing, just an errant thought. Just thinking that someday this,” she gestured from the unfinished canvas to the wall, “will be up there. You’ll be able to share a drink with Professor Snape.”

            Harry couldn’t help but smile at the thought, though he had a few other things in mind beyond just sharing a drink. “Do you mind if I take a look.”

            “Go ahead, just keep in mind that it’s a work in progress.”

            Harry walked around to the other side of the easel and stood back, inspecting the painting. A rough outline of his figure was painted, but it hadn’t been finished yet. His face had been fleshed out though, and he stared at the visage for a long time before he said, “I don’t look like that, do I?”

            “I think it’s a very good likeness,” Severus said.

            Harry stared at it again for a long time. Severus wasn’t one to tell white lies just to spare someone’s feelings, but Harry just didn’t see it. The painting version of him looked older and more worldly than he felt, and there was something about his expression that just didn’t seem right. Had his eyes ever looked that soft? Had his lips ever curved into quite that smile? But, then a realization hit him. Lissandra had been painting him while he was looking at Severus.

            The expression on his face was one of love.

            Harry looked away from the canvas and turned to look back at Severus. “I guess maybe I do look like that,” he said, “sometimes anyway.”

            Lissandra gave him a knowing smile and finished off her tea. “Are you ready to get back to work?”

            Harry sighed. “Yeah, okay. Do you think you’ll be able to finish it today?”

            “I just need to get a few reference points in, and then I can take it back to my studio and put the finishing touches on it. Some of the spell work will take a while though. I can probably have it for you next week. After that, I’d suggest storing it somewhere safe, perhaps your Gringott’s vault. It will be tethered to your soul, so you’ll want it somewhere that it will be safe from tampering.”

            “Of course.”

            Harry took his position again, and Lissandra continued with the portrait for another hour before she had everything that she needed to do before continuing work back in her studio. Harry thanked her and walked her through his office to the door.

            Severus was gone from his frame when Harry returned to his sitting room. He continued on into the bedroom and found Severus there instead, sprawled on his painted bed.

            “What are you looking so pleased about?” Harry asked.

            “I was just imagining all the things I’ll be able to do to you once I get my hands on that portrait.”

            Harry frowned. “When I’m dead, you mean?”

            Severus shrugged.

            “What about the things I’ll be able to do to you once you’re alive?”

            “One is a certainty the other only a possibility. I’m a practical man.”

            “I’m not planning to die any time soon.”      

            “You’ve been living on borrowed time since your first birthday. Really it’s amazing you’ve made it this far without me around to protect you.”

            “It does help that I’ve taken care of the whole Voldemort problem.”

            “In one of your timelines.”

            “To be fair, I haven’t even been born yet in the other one, and I’m not there to kill Voldemort in any case. I’m there to save you.”

            “I think the former would solve the latter.”

            Harry shook his head. “It doesn’t work that way, and you know it. Voldemort’s death is a fixed point in time. It’s too important to be anything else. Your death, on the other hand, might be preventable.”

            Severus snorted.

            “You still don’t think there’s even a chance, do you?”

            “There is always a chance of everything,” Severus said, “but it’s only a negligible one in this case.”

            Harry tried very hard not to believe him, but Severus’ continued assurances that Harry was wasting his time with his whole time-travel endeavor had slowly begun eating away at his confidence. “Well, I’m going down to the great hall for dinner,” he said instead of arguing. “I’ll see you in a bit.”

oOoOoOo

 

September 1974

           

Harry appeared in Dumbledore’s office just as a very young Professor McGonagall was leaving. He couldn’t help but grin at her. She only gave him a bemused look in response, not even commenting on his sudden apparition within Hogwarts’ wards. Though, anyone who had worked so closely with Albus for as long as she had was undoubtedly immune to surprise. She just nodded and proceeded past him to the door.

Albus looked up from where he stood behind his desk, shuffling papers. “Ah, Previn.”

“Students all settled in?” Harry asked.

“The castle is full to bursting this year,” Albus said, “record attendance.”

Harry gave a sad smile, knowing that those numbers would only dwindle as Voldemort began his rise to power. No one wanted to have children with the scent of war on the air. “Are you ready for this?” he asked, not talking about the current student body.

Dumbledore let out a long steadying breath. “Not in the least, but the time has come.”

Harry nodded. “No use putting it off then.”

“I’m afraid we’ll have to walk to the gates. I don’t quite have your affinity with the castle yet. I can’t apparate past the wards, perhaps in an emergency, but…”

Harry smiled at him. “Not when you’re reluctant to leave in the first place. It’s okay. We can side-along.” Harry offered his hand to him.

Dumbledore took a few steps closer and very delicately took Harry’s hand. Harry pulled him closer and linked their arms together. “Now then, you have a reasonably attractive, reasonably young, man on your arm. If you don’t turn that frown upside-down, I’m going to start thinking that I’ve lost my appeal.”

Dumbledore quirked a mischievous smile. “Hardly.”

“Well then, if you’re ready.”

“As I’ll ever be.”

They disapparated from the headmaster’s office and had to blink, struggling to adjust to the dark as they reappeared in a dimly lit stone cell. A balding man, roughly Dumbledore’s age, sat on the floor in one corner on a poorly stuffed straw mattress. He looked up, studying them in some surprise.

Dumbledore slipped his arm from Harry’s and took a step toward the man.

“Albus,” Grindelwald looked up then a grin spreading across his face, it morphed his features, changing them into something almost beautiful. “You’re late.”

“Gellert, I…” he took another step forward.

“Save it, Albus. You did what you had to.”

“It didn’t have to be this way.”

“Oh, but it did. We couldn’t have both been the Master of Death. Eventually it had to be one or the other. If it helps at all, I’m glad that it was you.”

“But I didn’t,” Albus’ voice caught in his throat and he coughed. “It wasn’t about the wand, or the other hallows. I never found them anyway. The stone. The cloak. You’d gone mad with the power. I… I had to stop you. For your own good. And… I’ve given it up anyway. No one should be the Master of Death, least of all me. Immortality. It’s just cowardice. We’re not meant to fight our ends, not once the time has come. I had the opportunity, but I set it aside. No one man can be trusted with that much power. Don’t you see?”

“You mean Flammel. Been dabbling in alchemy without me, have you? How is dear Nicki anyway?”

“Married.”

“Pity, that.” Grindelwald made a grunt of effort as he struggled to get to his feet. “So, if you’ve given up your quest for immortality and power, does that mean that you’ve come here to return my wand?”

“I’m afraid not.”

“Why are you here then, Albus? Not that I’m not pleased to see you, but, as you can see,” he gestured around his squalid cell, “I’m not really accustomed to entertaining.” Grindelwald walked past Dumbledore and circled around Harry, looking him over. “And, who is your pretty friend?”

Harry was relieved when Dumbledore ignored Grindelwald’s second question to answer the first instead. “I came here because it was time. I had to see you again. I had to clear the air between us. I’ve missed you.”

“And you’ve brought your pretty new toy boy for emotional support then? Or is it protection?”

“He’s just a friend.”

A shiver of disgust ran up his back as Grindelwald leaned in close to him and smelled Harry’s hair. “Well, if you’re not fucking him do you mind if I do? It’s been such a long time.” Grindelwald reached his hand toward Harry’s hair as if to caress it, but Harry caught his hand before he could and pushed him back.

Grindelwald backed off another step and raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. “My apologies. It’s been such a long time since I’ve been in the presence of anyone half so young or beautiful.” Grindelwald’s voice took on a tone of fond reminiscence as he continued. “In the old days I could have anyone that I wanted. It didn’t matter what a man’s sexual preferences were. He could be married, or in love with another. All I had to do was _want_ him, and he was as good as mine. Power can be so very _seductive_. Sometimes I allow myself to forget.”

“I’m just here to help Albus,” Harry said.

“Of course,” he said, with a forced smile, “and what a good friend you are.” He walked away from Harry then and moved to stand before Dumbledore. “Ask me what you came here to ask then. Let’s get this over with.”

“I don’t know-”

Grindelwald cut him off with a hiss. “Of course you do. It’s that question that’s been burning away at the depths of your soul for the last seventy-five years. The time has come. _Ask_. I can’t guarantee you’ll like the answer.”

Dumbledore’s breath caught in his throat, his voice barely more than a whisper, but he did ask then. “Ariana, the curse that killed her, who cast it?”

Grindelwald smiled then, but there was no kindness in it. “I don’t know.”

The sound that escaped Dumbledore’s lips was little more than a breath, but to Harry it sounded how a man’s soul must sound as it’s shattered to pieces. “But you..”

“I told you that you wouldn’t like the answer. It could have been any one of us. I don’t know any more than you or Aberforth.”

Dumbledore seemed to crumple in upon himself then. His shoulders slumped and he fell to his knees. Grindelwald put a hand on his shoulder. “For my part in it, Albus, I am sorry. I never wanted anything to come between us.”

Dumbledore let out a strangled sound, halfway to a sob.

Harry felt incredibly awkward just standing there observing the moment- like some kind of morbid voyeur to lost youth and broken dreams. Knowing how each would spend their remaining years and ultimately meet their demise, he felt like the specter of death that these two men had worked so hard to thwart. He wanted nothing more than to shrink back into the stonework and give them some privacy, but found himself galvanized to the spot, unable to turn away.

Gindelwald sunk to the floor beside Dumbledore and wrapped his arms around the other man. Albus did sob then, just once, and the sound broke Harry’s heart. They remained like that for a long time just holding eachother. Then, Grindelwald spoke again. “Despite some of the terrible things I’ve done and where I’ve ended up, I have few regrets. I’ve always done what I believed to be right, and I wouldn’t change that. I do regret what happened to your sister, Albus. And, I regret losing you most of all.”

Dumbledore pulled away then, brushing a hand across his face. “Thank you for that.” He looked back at Harry then, seeming to remember that he was still there. “We should go.” He rose to his feet, but Grindelwald remained on the floor.

“Will I see you again?”

Dumbledore was silent for a long moment that stretched out for ages, and then his face softened and he nodded. “Yes. Next week, I think. I’ll bring tea, and,” he looked around at the nearly empty cell, “will they allow you to have books?”

Grindelwald laughed. “I have no idea. No one has ever tried to give me one.”

“Well, we shall find out then.”

Dumbledore turned away from the man on the floor and took Harry’s arm once more. Then they were gone, and Grindelwald was left to wonder if maybe all his solitary confinement had led him to hallucinate the whole thing. Though, usually his hallucinations had a more pleasant theme.

Gellert Grindelwald, once the most powerful dark wizard the world had ever seen, rose to his feet and returned to his straw mattress in the dirty corner of his cold, stone cell to wait for Albus to return.

oOoOoOo

 

            Dumbledore was quiet when they returned to his office. He pulled out the bottle of brandy that Harry had only ever seen on one other occasion and poured them each a glass. He didn’t say anything until he had downed the whole thing.

            “Thank you, Peverell. That can’t have been easy to watch, but I really do appreciate it, and the push to finally face him.”

            Harry sipped at his own brandy. “Are you going to be okay.”

            “Actually, I’m somewhat relieved. Perhaps knowing that I can never know the truth about my sister’s death is better than living in fear of it. And now, in some small way, I can have Gellert back. It isn’t how I would have wished, but at least it’s something. I suppose I have you to thank for that as well.”

            “You deserve better.”

            “We, all of us, deserve better, but this is the world we have, and we can only endeavor to do the best that we can with the time which we are given.”

oOoOoOo

 

August, 2005

 

            Harry was waiting for them in the Great Hall when Neville led in the prospective, new muggle-born students and their families. Dudley trailed in a little behind the group with Deckland and Lucy.

            Harry surveyed the group. All of the parents, save Dudley, looked a bit overwhelmed, but the children all wore identical looks of excitement and wonder. Harry smiled fondly, remembering his own first trip through those doors.

            He took a moment to compose himself, put on a broad smile, and did his best to channel Albus Dumbledore. This amounted to his usual Headmaster Potter impersonation and changed his entire persona, even his voice.

            “I’m Headmaster Potter, and if you’ll allow me the honor, I’d like to be the first to welcome you to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Your things have been moved to the guest rooms that you’ll be staying in tonight. You’ll have a little while to settle in first, and then you’ll be served a light lunch here in the Great Hall. Deputy Headmaster Longbottom will escort you to your rooms and join you for lunch, then he will be the one giving you a tour of the school and grounds this afternoon, and explaining just what we do here and why it’s so important. I will join you later this evening for dinner and have set aside some time this evening to meet with each of your families individually and address any of your questions or concerns.

            “I hope that you all feel welcome and enjoy your stay.”

            Neville guided the others up the central staircase to their rooms then, and Harry went to greet his family.

            “How was the train ride?” he asked.

            “The kids slept most of the way,” Dudley answered. “I think you might have your hands full with that lot though.” He gestured up the stairs where the others had disappeared around the corner. “A few of them are almost as bad as my dad was.”

            “That’s a worrying thought.”

            “I’m sure that Neville has them well in hand.”

            Harry glanced up after the group uncertainly. “I hope so. Anyway, I’ve put you three in some rooms across the hall from mine. I thought we could take our lunch up in my quarters and then I’ll give you your own private tour of the castle before we rejoin the rest of the group for dinner.”

            Dudley nodded. “That’s fine by me. Suppose this means that I can finally meet Snape.”

            “If he hasn’t disappeared off somewhere.”

            Dudley shook his head in disbelief, looking around at the castle as they ascended the stairs. “I can’t see how this place can ever get boring.”

            Harry laughed. “We’re rarely that lucky.”

            Harry showed them out to the rooms they would be staying in first. The door was directly across the hall from Harry’s own gargoyle. He’d temporarily replaced the portrait that normally hung there with a normal door. He thought the children might have some difficulty climbing in and out of the portrait hole. He’d added a number of protective enchantments on the rooms as well, to ensure that the children wouldn’t sneak out in the middle of the night to wander the castle. Also, to keep Deckland’s magic in check just in case he had another outburst.

            Harry and Dudley were given a moment of privacy while the children unpacked their things.

            “How did everything go with Donna?” Harry asked.

            Dudley heaved a sigh. “She’s moving her things this weekend while we’re gone.”

            “I would have thought you’d be relieved. She hasn’t changed her mind about giving you custody has she?”

            “No,” Dudley answered. “That’s not the problem. She says that it’s just more than she can handle with Deckland, and that I might as well raise the children since they obviously get it from my side of the family. She’s moved in with the father of her baby. I don’t even want to know his name. If she wants to start a new family, then that’s fine. I just wish that she wasn’t abandoning the kids completely. It’s not right for them to have to grow up without a mother because I picked the wrong woman.”

            Harry put an arm on his cousin’s shoulder. “It’s better that they grow up without a mother at all than to have one who doesn’t love them for who they are.”

            “I suppose you’re right.”

            The children burst into the room then, all bright smiles, flushed cheeks, and blond cherub curls.

            “Dad, dad, we saw a flying horse,” Deckland said.

            “It’s called a Pegasus,” Lucy corrected him. “That’s right, isn’t it, Uncle Harry?”

            “Yes,” Harry agreed, “it is. Our Care of Magical Creatures Professor borrowed a couple from a friend for one of his classes. Would you like to go and see them after lunch?”

            Both children nodded enthusiastically.

            “Well, we’d better go eat then.” Harry led them out into the corridor and over to his gargoyle.

            “How do we get in?” Deckland asked.

            “Well, you need to have the password,” Harry told him. “Can you guess what it is?”

            Deckland thought on it very seriously for a moment, frowning, but shook his head.

            “How does Ali Baba enter the thieves’ cave of wonders?” Harry asked.

            “Open Sesame,” both children chimed in unison and the gargoyle stepped aside for them.

            Dudley looked to his cousin with a patronizing expression on his face. “Really, Harry?”

            Harry shrugged. “I thought it was funny.”

            Kreecher already had lunch waiting for them when they entered Harry’s quarters, and Harry was pleased to note that Severus had not gone to hide in the dungeons as he had expected.

            Harry smiled up at him. “Good, Severus, you’re here. I wanted you to meet my family. This is my cousin Dudley and his children- Lucy and Deckland. And this is my good friend, Severus Snape.”

            “Pleased to meet you, finally,” Dudley said, nodding to Severus.

            At the same time, Lucy said, “but that’s a painting.”

            “It’s good to meet you all the same,” Severus said, and Lucy squeaked in surprise at being addressed by a portrait. “You look a good deal like your grandmother did at your age,” he told her.

            “You know Grandma?” she asked with wide eyes.

            “I do. We lived near to each other when we were children.”

            “But, you’re a painting,” Lucy told him.

            “I wasn’t always a painting. When I was alive, I was the headmaster of this school.”

            “You’re dead?” Deckland broke in. “Do all wizards turn into paintings when they die?”

            Dudley leaned in to whisper in Harry’s ear, quietly at least so that neither Severus nor the children heard. “Necrophiliac.”

            Harry punched him hard in the shoulder.

            Severus didn’t seem to notice. “No,” he told Deckland, “not all wizards.”

            “Will Uncle Harry turn into a painting when he dies?”

            “Yes.”

            “Daddy says that I’m a wizard,” Deckland said. “Will I turn into a painting when I die?”

            “I don’t know.”

            “Why not?”

            Severus cast a desperate look to Harry.

            Harry chuckled. “Why don’t we leave Severus alone for a bit and eat lunch now? We can talk to him again later.”

            Harry led them over to the table that had been laid heavily with all the best that the Hogwarts’ kitchens had to offer and they all tucked in. The children hardly said a word then for at least half an hour as they were too busy trying some of everything.

oOoOoOo

            They had an eventful day. Harry showed them as much of Hogwarts as he could in a single afternoon.

Lucy and Deckland, like most children, absolutely loved Hagrid. The half giant had even taken each of them in turn for a ride on one of Madam Maxime’s pegasuses. Dudley was obviously uncomfortable around Hagrid at first, but by the time they left his company. The two had shaken hands and Hagrid had told Dudley that he’d grown into “A righ’ fine young man, and a damn decen’ father ta boot.”

The day had been full of questions from all three Dursleys. Everything from, “If the forest is forbidden, why isn’t there a fence to keep people out?” to, “how does the ceiling in the great hall tell what the sky is like outside?” and, “if wizards can fly, why does this sodding castle have so many bloody stairs?”

Harry did his best to come up with answers.

Dinner went well enough- the house elves having made their usual effort. It seemed too that Neville had made an exceptionally good tour guide. The meetings with the muggle families went better than Harry would have hoped, and by the end of the night Harry was able to officially add all three students to the roster for the new term.

By the time Harry finished with his meetings, Dudley had gotten the children to bed and was able to join Harry and Severus for a nightcap.

            “Considering who your parents are, you seem remarkably sanguine about your son’s magical ability,” Severus commented as Harry was pouring his cousin his second drink.

            “Oh, no Harry,” Dudley said, distracted from the conversation as he realized that Harry was pouring him another drink. “I really shouldn’t. I need to keep an eye on the kids.”

            “Don’t worry,” Harry reassured him. “I have a monitoring charm on their room. I’ll know immediately if they wake.”

            “Oh, alright then,” he took the drink. “As far as Deckland goes, I’m not going to try to make my son defy his nature. If he’s a wizard, then I want him to be the best wizard that he can be.”

            “I only wish that all muggles could be so accepting,” Harry said.

            Severus snorted derisively. “If they were, we could dispense with the statute of secrecy altogether.”

            “Would that be such a bad thing,” Harry wondered.

            “Gellert Grindelwald didn’t think so. Neither did Lord Voldemort.”

            “Well, I don’t know who Gellert Grindywad is, but I don’t think that peace and acceptance was really what that Voldemort bloke had in mind,” Dudley said.

            “No, quite the opposite on both counts,” Severus agreed.

            “You know Snape, you don’t live up to half the stories my mum tells about you.”

            “Oh?” Severus raised an eyebrow, “and what are those.”

            “Well,” Dudley said, taking a sip of his scotch. “The way mum tells it, I’d half expected a scaley old ogre- scaring little children and doing experiments on kittens. Or maybe it’s scaring kittens and experimenting on children.”

            “Aw, Petunia always was such a sweetheart.”

            Dudley snorted. “Well, if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re really not a half bad looking bloke. Not that I swing that way, but I guess I can understand what Harry would see in you. And, I think my children have even taken a shine to you.”

            “That will make them all the easier to experiment on.”

            Harry was relieved when his cousin understood Severus’ dry tone for the joke that it was and burst out laughing.

oOoOoOo

 

Christmas, 1974

 

            Harry felt a warmth of happiness fill his heart as he watched young Severus open his Christmas presents. They had indeed both been invited over for the Evans family’s Christmas dinner tomorrow, but tonight it was just the two of them. Harry was both excited and nervous about spending so much time with his family.

He looked around at his cottage, taking in the decorations and pile of gifts for Severus, and decided that he had perhaps gone a bit overboard this year. It was just that he knew what a hard time of year this could be for the boy, and he only wanted to make it as enjoyable as he could. He had even knitted Severus a new jumper- somehow managing to find the time to both learn to knit and complete the project in the midst of his other obligations. It was black with two green snakes on it, curled into a double-S. Severus had grinned crookedly and pulled it on over his t-shirt as soon as he had opened it, making the entire endeavor worthwhile. Harry still wasn’t the best knitter, and the sweater was a little lumpy and the sleeves were too long. Severus was constantly pushing them back up on his wrists, but the way the boy was growing he would probably fit into it before the end of winter, and by next Christmas he will have outgrown it.

Harry would have to make him another one next year, he decided. Every kid deserves to open a Weasley jumper at Christmas- even if it’s one made by a Potter claiming to be a Peverell who doesn’t really know how to knit.

Severus began to open his last present, and Harry couldn’t help but smile as the child’s eyes lit up when he pulled the paper away from the cover of the album. He lifted it up- _The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars_. “How could you even know that I wanted this? This is a _muggle_ album.”

“It came highly recommended by a friend.”

“Who? It can’t have been Lily or we would be listening to the Bay City Rollers or something equally stupid: Herman’s Hermits maybe.”

“It’s a secret. Where would be the fun in telling?” In truth it was Severus himself who had suggested the record, with a little smirk that had made Harry wonder what the portrait wasn’t telling him.

“Do you have a record player?” Severus asked, already pulling the record from its sleeve.

Harry flicked his wand at a cupboard and glided a portable turntable out onto the center of the floor. Severus barely wasted any time setting the record onto the turntable and placing the needle. Harry closed his eyes and listened to the first few notes of the song. It was really kind of beautiful in a melancholy sort of way. The song was about humanity falling apart at the news that the entire planet only had five years left. Like most things, it made Harry think of the war.

Harry watched Severus swaying to the music, fairy lights from the Christmas tree behind him twinkling and casting light around him like a halo. It was such a poignant image, seeing Severus like that, just grooving to the music. Harry leaned back into the couch cushions and just watched him.

There was a moment of warm static noise as the needle slid to the next track, as Harry listened, he couldn’t help the tears that slid down his cheeks. The song spoke of love and loss. It struck a chord so deeply within him that he was powerless to stop the flood of emotion welling inside him.

Love is careless in its choosing  
Sweeping over cross a baby  
Love descends on those defenseless  
Idiot love will spark the fusion

 

            Severus seemed to realize the effect that the song was having on Harry, and he moved over to take a seat on the couch beside the old man.

            “Are you okay?” Severus asked, concern apparent in his voice. “I never really realized what a sad song this is before.”

            Harry smiled at the boy. “It’s quite alright. It just made me think of someone is all.”

            Severus cocked his head to the side, considering the last few lines of the song as David Bowie’s voice sang out from the record player and the sad strains of the electric guitar played on. “Is it your… boyfriend? The person the song reminds you of.”

            “Yes.” This was the first time Severus had mentioned Harry’s sexuality since Harry had explained it to him a few years ago, and Harry felt just as awkward discussing it now as he had then.

            “So, you’re still together then?”

            “We are.”

            “Do you think I’ll ever meet him?” Severus asked.

            “Someday.”

            “Lily says that Bowie likes both men _and_ women. Do you think that’s possible.”

            “I don’t really know very much about David Bowie. I suppose he might.”

            “Do you think that there are a lot of people like that- people who like both?”

            Harry considered it for a while. “I think that there are some. I think that those people are the ones who are more attracted to who a person is inside than what they look like on the outside. I think that most people have at least some capacity for that- the ability to love someone so completely that gender doesn’t even matter anymore.”

            Harry put an arm around the boy and the sat together quietly listening to the next few songs on the album.

            “I love Lily,” Severus said after a while.

            “I know.”

            “Do you think that she loves me?”

            “I know that she does,” Harry said without hesitation, “but there are many kinds of love. You can love someone without being attracted to them in a romantic way, just like you can be attracted to someone without loving them.”

            “Lily kissed me.”

            Harry’s eyes widened in surprise. This was news to him.

            “She’s kissed me before, but only ever on the cheek, and not since she’s.. you know,..” Severus gestured in the air, “developed.”

            Harry chucked, trying not to think too hard on the fact that his mother now had breasts. “She didn’t kiss you on the cheek this time?”

            “No.”

            Harry struggled with how to deal with the situation. Severus had told Harry that he was definitely gay and had no sexual interest in women at all, but at this age he didn’t know that, and Harry couldn’t just explain it to him.  As far as how Lily felt about Severus, Harry had no idea. He had always assumed that Lily’s interest was purely platonic, that she only thought of him as a good friend, but maybe that wasn’t the case.

            “How did it make you feel when she kissed you?”

            “Confused.”

            “That probably means that you’re not really ready to decide how you feel about her then. You could talk to her about it, or just wait to see if anything changes.”

            “So, you don’t think I should ask her out then?” Severus asked.

            “Not until you’re sure of your feelings. Lily is a very good friend. You wouldn’t want to risk her friendship by rushing into anything that you aren’t sure of.”

            Severus nodded. “You’re probably right, but… don’t you think it will hurt her feelings, how she kissed me, if I just do nothing?”

            “Talk to her about it. If you don’t know why she kissed you, she might not have meant anything by it anyway, or maybe she’s just as unsure of her feelings as you are.”

            Severus nodded, but he looked glum. Harry knew how little Severus liked to discuss matters of the heart.

            “How about some hot chocolate?” Harry asked, getting up to fetch them each a mug.

oOoOoOo


	10. Chapter Ten

June, 1975

 

            “You’re sure that those are tears from an actual _phoenix_ and not just some overgrown red chicken?” Severus asked, looking down at the pile of dead rats with distaste.

            Harry chuckled. “Yeah, I’m sure.”

            “Well, I don’t know why it isn’t working then. There’s no reason for it. The phoenix tears should be at least partially effective just on their own.”

            Harry dropped a comforting hand onto the boy’s shoulder. “We’re close, Severus. I can feel it. Try to be patient. We just have to keep adjusting the ingredient ratios and brewing times until we hit upon the right one.”

            Severus sighed. “We’re going to need more basilisk venom if we’re going to keep testing it.”

            “I will get more.”

            “And, there’s another thing. How exactly is it that you managed to get venom from a snake that’s been extinct for thousands of years? You’re not breeding them in the basement are you?”

            “The cottage doesn’t have a basement.”

            Severus scowled.

            “They aren’t completely extinct. I know where there is one still living, safe for the moment, but it’s too dangerous to let anyone else know of its existence or whereabouts, so I’ll expect you to keep it to yourself.”

            “I will, but even if you know where to find a living basilisk, how did you get a venom sample. You’re an old man, a magically powerful one, but still, you can’t possibly be spending your weekends fighting basilisks.”

            Harry smiled his amusement. “I’ll let the old man comment slide, but you should know that I’m perfectly capable of fighting off a basilisk if the need should arise. As far as collecting venom, being a parselmouth is certainly an advantage.”

            “You can talk to snakes?” Severus asked, clearly disbelieving

            Harry nodded. “You know, Severus, after all the time we’ve spent together, I’m a bit insulted by how often you underestimate me. I would have thought that by now I would have lost my ability to shock you.”

            “It would seem not,” Severus said, as he looked at Harry with new wonder.

oOoOoOo

               

                Harry looked around cautiously as he paced the length of the cavernous Chamber of Secrets.

            “ ** _Hello_** ,” he called in paseltongue, looking around for the massive basilisk. “ ** _It’s Harry Potter_** ,” he said after a moment of no response.

            “ ** _I know_** ,” a hiss came from behind his shoulder and he spun on his heels in surprise. “ ** _I smelled you coming_**.”

            He couldn’t understand how the huge snake had managed to sneak up on him. It just didn’t make sense that any animal that large could move so quietly. “ ** _I suppose you don’t get many visitors down here_**.”

            “ ** _No_**.”

            “ ** _If you don’t mind, I need some more venom_** ,” Harry told the snake, raising the vials that he’d brought along for collection.

            The basilisk rose up from the floor so that it was face to face with him. It flicked out its tongue, the forked end brushing against Harry’s forehead as he tried his best not to flinch. “ ** _You must have many enemies, Harry Potter_**.”

            Harry couldn’t really argue with that, but he hadn’t exactly been using the basilisk venom to kill anyone either. “ ** _I’ve been using it on rats, actually_** ,” he said truthfully.

            “ ** _Rats are tasty_**.”

            “ ** _Erm, yes I suppose so_** ,” Harry looked around the chamber. “ ** _Is that what you eat down here? Rats?_** ”

            “ ** _Mostly. I used to catch acromantula once in a while. They are quite tasty. And, I caught a badger once. Tom used to bring me piglets_** ,” the great snake seemed to lick his chomps at the remembrance. “ ** _The house elves offer themselves to me when they become too old and frail to work. I oblige them, but they taste terrible_**.”

            Harry swallowed back the bile rising in his throat. He made a mental note to never mention this new information to Hermione. “ ** _I’ll have to remember to bring you something next time I come. You like piglets?_** ”

            “ ** _Mmm. Yes, very much_**.”

            “ ** _It’s a deal then_** ,” Harry agreed. He held up his vials meaningfully, and the basilisk lowered its head. Harry held one of the large glass vials up to one extruded fang as long as his forearm, and half a dozen large drops of venom filled the vial. He repeated the process with the other vials he’d brought down to the chamber, and he soon had enough venom to kill a whole colony of rats, pups and all.

“ ** _Thanks_** ,” Harry said, capping the vials and putting them under a cushioning charm before he put them away in his bag. He stood there awkwardly for a moment, eager to be away from the place, but somehow unwilling to be rude to the great snake. “ ** _I’ve got to be off, but I’m sure I’ll see you soon_**.” After that, he apparated home to his cottage.

 

August, 2005

           

            Harry walked through into his quarters, sparing the portrait Severus had last occupied a glance before continuing on into the bedroom. He hadn’t expected to find Severus in their quarters at all. It had somehow become an unwritten rule that any time Harry made one of his forays into the past Severus would immediately remove himself off to some other part of the castle, so Harry was surprised to find him lounging on his painted armchair in their bedroom.

            “What are you doing in here?” Harry asked.

            “Reading,” Severus stated, as though it should have been obvious- which, of course, it was. There were five copies of the same book turned to consecutive pages and set upon conjured pedestals in front of the portrait. Harry had set them up for him before leaving, but that had been nearly a day ago by Harry’s timeline, and he had forgotten.

            “I just didn’t expect you to be here; that’s all,” Harry said, sitting on the edge of his bed. “You usually leave when I go back.”

            “I was sufficiently distracted to remain here.”

            Harry cocked his head to the side. “How do you mean?”

            “Just as I said. Reading is keeping me sufficiently distracted to await your return.”

            Harry snorted, unsure whether Severus was joking or not- though he sounded completely serious. “You can’t possibly get that bored in the instant that I’m away.”

            “Two minutes and thirty-seven seconds,” Severus said, still not looking at Harry as his eyes scanned from side to side across the pages of his books.

            Harry let out a little laugh. “Really? Two minutes and thirty-seven second _exactly_?”

            “Yes.”

            “Every time?”

            “Thus far.”

            “And, two minutes and thirty-seven seconds is such an incredibly long time- practically an eternity. There’s no way you could possibly be expected to wait around that long.”

            Severus looked up at him then, face serious. “Time is, as you should know better than anyone, relative.”

            “Meaning?”

            “ _Meaning_ , that two minutes and thirty-seven seconds can indeed seem like an eternity when you dread a day that the thirty-seven seconds turns into thirty-eight, and thirty-nine, and forty. When two minutes and change turns into three minutes, and four, and five- a day when you decide not to return.”

            Harry inhaled to speak, but he didn’t know what to say. He sat there with his mouth slightly agape.

            “It’s nothing to worry yourself over, Potter. Could you turn my pages, please?”

Harry flicked his wand at the books and turned them to the next ten pages. “If you make a list of books for Lissandra, I can have her paint you a library.”

            Severus nodded. “You might start with my personal collection. There are some rare volumes that may be difficult to replicate without access to original copies. Not to mention my own personal notes and papers. Whatever happened to my things, anyway? I assume that you cleared them out when you moved in. What did you do with them?”

            Harry frowned. “Actually, there weren’t really any of your personal possessions here when I moved in. There was furniture and books, the liquor cabinet was fully stocked, and everything was a mess. I’m guessing that you never let the house elves in here while you were alive. They must have packed some of it up afterward though, because there weren’t really any of your personal possessions: no clothes or toiletries or anything like that.”

            Severus glanced up at him over the array of books. “Disappointed that you didn’t find my collection of _Playwitch_ or _Brooms and Bludgers_?”

            Harry laughed. “A large collection of pornography would have been an enlightening bequest.”

            “Perhaps, but not one that I would have made to you.”

            Harry snorted. “Yeah, I guess not. It would have come as quite a shock. Can you imagine the look on my face though? Bit of a missed opportunity there, I think.” He fell silent for a moment. “Is there really a skin mag called _Brooms and Bludgers_?”

            “There used to be. I don’t think it’s in print anymore. I’m sure that you can pick up an issue in 1975 to satisfy your curiosity, though I won’t vouch for the content. Male grooming in the seventies left something to be desired.”

            Harry laughed. “I had noticed that. I was considering cultivating a nice set of sideburns to be a bit more fashionable.”

            “Please don’t,” Severus said, and the disgusted, deadpan tone he said it in left Harry laughing again. “You’re in good spirits today,” Severus observed. “Does that mean you’ve finally lucked into a bit of success with your latest round of potion trials?”

            Harry flopped down onto the bed. “No, and I don’t understand it. It doesn’t work at all. With the phoenix tears added in, it should at least work after we’ve administered the venom, but it doesn’t do anything other than leave me with piles of dead rats. Could one of the other ingredients we’re using be counter-affecting the tears?”

            “There are some ingredients that would render phoenix tears inert, but I can’t see any reason that you’d have for adding any of them in the first place. Do you have your notes with you? I can look over the recipe again.”

            Harry went back into the sitting room where he’d left his satchel and dug out the leather binder where he’d started keeping the ever growing pile of parchment scraps of notes. He brought it back into the bedroom and rifled through the pages until he found a copy of their most recent attempt. He laid the pages out for Severus over the tops of two of his book stands and remained silent for several long moments while Severus scanned the pages, scowling in deep consideration.

            Finally, Severus shrugged. “You’re right. There should at least be some affect when this potion is administered after the venom transfusion, even if it doesn’t work as an inoculation.”

            Harry sighed. “Well, that’s helpful.”

            “You should feel better.”

            “How is that?”

            “If one of the preeminent potions masters in the world can’t see the problem, you know that you aren’t just being an idiot.”

            “Thanks for that.” Harry gave him a grim smile. “And if one of the preeminent potions masters in the world can’t see the problem, how are an inept Gryffindor and a fifteen-year-old boy supposed to figure it out?”

            Severus sighed, rubbing at his eyebrow as he stared at the pages again. The furrow in his brow deepened and he made a frustrated noise, then suddenly his expression opened up and he looked back up at Harry.

            Harry brightened at the change. “You figured it out didn’t you?”

            “When did you harvest the tears?”

            “Fawkes gave them to me last week. Why? Do I need to harvest them during a full moon or something?”

            “No, but did you harvest them last week, or did you harvest them a week ago?”

            “What? Isn’t that the,” Harry started, but then Severus’ meaning dawned on him. “I harvested them last week.”

            “Well, I can’t imagine they’d have much efficacy, thirty years before they were shed.”

            Severus looked entirely too superior as he said this, and Harry groaned. “Why didn’t I think of that?”

            “Because you’re an inept Gryffindor, and I’m obviously the brains of the operation.”

            Harry couldn’t argue with that. “But, if the problem is that the tears don’t exist yet, why can I take them with me to begin with? Shouldn’t they cease to exist once I go back in time?”

            “If it worked that way, you wouldn’t be able to go back at all. Or did you forget that you don’t exist yet in 1975 either.”

            “Right,” Harry said, feeling somewhat stupid.

            “The time turner creates a temporal bubble around you in order to send you through time. It protects you along with your clothes and whatever else you have on your person. It’s like a little pocket of your present that you take with you when you travel backward. How that necessarily affects the tears on a basic chemical level, I don’t know, and I could be wrong, but it’s certainly a plausible explanation.”

Harry nodded. “It won’t be easy finding a way to get them in ’75. Fawkes likes me well enough, but I’m not sure that I can get him to weep on command. I have a suspicion that the only reason he does it now is because he’s still mourning Dumbledore. I hate to go through all that trouble, not to mention coming up with something to tell Albus, if it’s not the problem.”

“It should be easy enough to test,” Severus said. “Try the tears on their own, and see what happens. Don’t bother with the basilisk venom or the rats, just make a small cut on the back of your hand and drop one on, if it doesn’t heal, then you’ll know the problem is temporal rather than with your process. You can go from there.”

Harry shook his head in disbelief. “I really don’t know how I’d manage any of this without you, Severus.”

“Without me, there wouldn’t be a need to manage it at all, but thank you for the sentiment all the same.”

 

June 1975

           

            Harry held his breath and felt the adrenaline rush through his body like a splash of icy water, feeling his legs tingle as he slid the knife over the back of his hand. Oddly, he hardly felt the cut. The sharpening spell he’d just cast on the knife seemed to have done the trick then. He watched with a detached curiosity as the blood welled up in the shallow cut, and then he set the knife aside and picked up the vial of phoenix tears he’d harvested thirty years in the future, after breakfast that morning.

            It seemed an almost horrific waste as he let a single tear fall onto the tiny cut, but then he’d wasted enough tears to heal platoons of mortally wounded soldiers on hundreds of condemned lab rats over the last few years, so what was one more experiment?

            He waited for a moment, staring at the cut and not sure which result he was hoping for. After a full minute had passed with still no change to the wound, Harry let out a slow sigh and healed the wound with his wand.

            _Well, that answers that_.

            There was nothing for it then. He was going to have to pay Albus a surprise visit, and he’d just finally managed to leave his office too, after catching up on a week’s worth of paperwork. Also, he still owed the basilisk a piglet, so he should really make a point of stopping down in the chamber while he was at Hogwarts.

            _Which gave him a rather clever idea…_

_oOoOoOo_

            Harry had cast half a dozen cleaning charms on his robes, but still couldn’t get the smell of pig manure to go away as he rode the spiral staircase up to Dumbledore’s office. He’d shrunk the creature and put it into his pocket before he’d apparated into the third floor girl’s lavatory, and at some point between then and returning it to its original size down in the chamber, it had defecated a normal sized pig’s worth of stink into his robe pocket.

            He was trying to assure himself that there was no way his robes could still smell, that it was all in his head, and that the stench must have simply burned the receptors in his nasal passageways (because that sounded like it was probably a real thing,) when he entered the office and Albus looked up from his desk with a grin that lasted approximately half a second before it turned to a frown and the old man wrinkled his nose.

            “Have you been living in a barn?”

            “A pig shit in my pocket, and apparently no cleaning spell known to wizerdom is strong enough to get the stench out.”

            Albus raised an eyebrow. “Do I even want to ask?”

            Harry shook his head and grimaced. The basilisk had been very appreciative of the piglet and had been more than happy to grant Harry his little favor under the circumstances, but if Harry didn’t have to watch a snake eat for another hundred years, it would be too soon. He thought of the piglets all too human squeals of pain and had to suppress a shudder. Potions had never been the most humane of occupations, and once he managed to get the antivenin to work, he’d be more than willing to leave the morally grey animal testing to Severus. If he never had to touch another, supposedly ethically sourced, eye of newt or crup spleen, that would be fine by him.

            Dumbledore chuckled. “To what do I owe the unexpected visit? Just dropping by for tea and to stink up my office, or is there something else I can do for you?”

            Harry smiled. Albus was as canny as ever. “I do have a favor to ask, but I could do with the tea first.”

            After a house elf had brought in a tea tray, and Harry had braced himself in traditional British style, he made his way around to asking for what he actually wanted.

            Albus was, perhaps understandably, a bit surprised. “This is for that potion project that you’ve been working on with Severus, I suppose?”

            Harry nodded.

            “I admit that you’re not the first person to ask. I get requests like this from time to time. Fawkes was willing to give Olivander a couple of his tail feathers twenty or thirty years ago, but to my knowledge he has never shed a tear for anyone, except in the gravest of circumstances. He likes you well enough, and you’re more than welcome to try, but you shouldn’t get your hopes up.”

            Harry nodded again. This was what he had been afraid of, but he had to try. He pulled the vial from his pocket, luckily not the one the pig had been inhabiting, as Albus called the phoenix over.

            Fawkes landed onto Albus’ desk and eyed Harry warily, his usual agreeable demeanor all but gone.

            In his own timeline, Harry only had to ask, and Fawkes would fill a vial for him, but while phoenixes experienced time differently than humans, and the bird did seem to recognize the bond they had in some way, there was no guarantee that he would be willing to comply with Harry’s request.

            Harry got up from his chair and knelt before the bird, looking up to meet the intelligent gold-ringed eyes. “Fawkes, I have a very important request to make. Will you give me a few of your tears? I need them to make a potion to save the life of a man that I care about very much.”

            Fawkes cocked his head and ruffled the scarlet feathers on the ruff of his neck.

            “Please?” Harry asked. “This is very important to me.”

            Fawkes glanced away.

            There was pity in Albus’ voice when he said, “I’m sorry, my friend, but I don’t think there’s any way to convince him, and no way to force his compliance.”

            Harry drew out his wand, and Albus immediately rose to his feet, as if he expected Harry to curse the bird in retribution.

            “Relax, Albus,” Harry said, a little hurt that Dumbledore would think that he would do anything to hurt Fawkes. Although, of course, Albus wouldn’t have hesitated if their roles had been reversed- he’d have cursed a thousand phoenixes if it had meant saving Gellert Grindelwald his fate. Harry supposed that was the core difference between them.

            “I’m going to cast a legilimency link.”

            The look of suspicion vanished from Dumbledore’s eyes, and it was replaced with a look of boyish excitement. “You are simply full of surprises, my friend. I’ve never had the good fortune to witness a link performed. Have you done it many times?”

            “Just once,” Harry said, failing to fight the tears already springing to his eyes. He put his wand to his temple and thought of nothing but Severus.

            _Severus at twelve, looking up at him over a cauldron, stringy hair hanging in his face, a crooked smile on his lips._

_Severus at thirty-five, black robes billowing in the wind, swooping down on Harry like an avenging angel._

_Severus and Lily giggling in the garden of Harry’s cottage._

_A soft look of love in dark painted eyes._

_A memory of a memory: a skinny boy cowering in a corner in fear._

_The man, placing himself between his students and an enraged werewolf._

_Slender hands, stirring a bubbling green potion with a glass rod._

_An untied shoe._

_Writing in a crooked scrawl over the pages of an old potions textbook._

_Laughter over scotch at two in the morning._

_A silver doe padding silently through a darkened forest._

_A whisper of, “Always.” Almost a benediction._

_The smirk, as Severus sent Gilderoy Lockheart flying back onto his arse._

_The fear, when Harry announced that Voldemort was alive._

_Love, and sorrow._

_Pride, and regret._

_Fear._

_Fear that Harry might fail._

_And, finally whispered words. Tears filling dark eyes, blood pooling everywhere, unfathomably bright red in all that dust and murk, and a firm hand on the back of Harry’s neck, turning his head._

_“Look at me!”_

           

Harry jerked his wand away from the connection, and took a shaky breath. The tears were flowing freely now. “Please,” he begged the bird, filling the word with all of his pain.

            He pointed his wand at Fawkes, and a thin thread of pearlescent silver mist flowed from the tip into the phoenix’s eyes, and ears, and beak.

            Fawkes’ eyes glassed over for a moment, and then fell closed.

            Harry almost didn’t get the vial up in time, struggling as he was to blink away the tears in his own eyes.

            When the tiny vial was half-full, Fawkes gave Harry a look full of sorrow and rubbed his head on the back of Harry’s hand, before fluttering back over to his perch and burying his head under one wing.

            Dumbledore regarded Harry with a look of combined sadness and wonder for one solid moment, and then without commenting, he opened the bottom drawer on his desk and pulled out a crystal decanter. He poured them each a glass and handed one to Harry.

            They drank in silence.

 

August 2005

 

            Harry had to fight down a feeling of pity as he banished the withered carcass of the great basilisk he’d been talking to that morning. He, of course, had some idea of what he’d find when he had entered the chamber, and he reminded himself that the thing had been trying to kill him at the time. Turn around was fair play.

            Unfortunately, the smell wasn’t banished with the body. It seemed that he was just cursed with a plague of bad smells today, but he did his best to ignore it, and cast a spell at the stone floor at his feet to blow away the dust. The spell revealed a stone that was marked with a carved “X” and Harry levitated it out of the way to reveal a little wooden box.

            He cracked the box open and was happy to see that his preservation spell had held up well over the last thirty years.

oOoOoOo

            Harry was feeling quite pleased with himself when he made it back out of the tunnels and up to his rooms- debating on whether or not a shower should be his first priority.

            Severus was waiting for him in their sitting room, and he raised an eyebrow at the box. “What is that, and why are you so filthy?”

            Harry set the box down on the tea table beside the couch, to tantalize Severus’ curiosity as he began to pull his robes off.

            Severus followed him through the frames as Harry made his way into the bedroom and fetched a dressing gown.

            “Well?” Severus asked, as Harry tied the belt.

            Harry just smiled at him smugly, and said, “You’ll see,” as he walked back into the sitting room.

Again, Severus followed.

“Kreecher,” Harry called. The elf popped into the room almost before Harry could finish saying his name.

“What can Kreecher be doing for Master Black, Sir?”

Harry had long ago given up on trying to correct the elf, and had resigned himself to being called “Master Black.” It seemed to make Kreecher happy, in any case.

“I have an odd request, but I’m sure it won’t be any problem for a fine, experienced elf such as yourself,” Harry said, leaning in to whisper what he wanted, just because he knew that it would aggravate Severus to no end.

“Kreecher is knowing just where to get one, Master,” the elf said, nodding.

“And something from the kitchens too, if you don’t mind.”

            “Kreecher will bring you some lovely roast with potatoes and cherry pie.”

            “That would be wonderful,” Harry agreed, feeling his stomach grumble at the mere mention of food.

            The elf popped out, and Harry went back into the bedroom, shooting a spell into the bathroom to start the shower running, and untying his dressing gown.

            “You’ve no intention of telling me what you’re up to, do you?” Severus grumbled, eyes wandering over Harry’s exposed flesh, even as he crossed his arms and scowled.

            “Patience, Severus,” Harry remonstrated, smirking to himself as he left Severus in the bedroom and stepped into the gloriously hot shower.

            He was feeling ever so much better as he sat down at his little table and brushed the wet hair out of his face before tucking into the roast.

            There was a little scuttling sound from the covered cage on the floor across the room. Harry tempered his own curiosity by reveling in the waves of frustration rolling off of Severus.

            “Are you going to tell me what the results were from your testing on the phoenix tears at least?” Severus asked.

            Harry swallowed and wiped his mouth. “Your theory was correct. Fawkes’ tears from the present don’t seem to have any effect in the past.”

            Severus made a ponderous hum in the back of his throat. It’s too bad that I’m dead, there would be a good paper in that, I think. Perhaps I could dictate to one of the NEWT students. I wonder if the British Potions Journal accepts posthumous publications.”

            Harry left Severus to speculate for a while as he dispatched some more of his roast before pointing out that, while it would make for an interesting paper, he’d have a difficult time explaining where he’d gotten his data from without exposing and subsequently incriminating Harry.

            Severus glanced at the covered cage. “If you don’t tell me what you’re up to, that might not be as difficult a concession to make as you might think.”

            “You’d miss me if I was in Azkaban.” Harry watched the red cloth covering ripple as the cage rattled. “It’s really driving you mad isn’t it?” He asked, putting a bite of the cherry pie in his mouth.

            “Yes,” Severus grumbled. “Were you able to acquire a fresh supply of tears from Fawkes in 1975, then?”

            “Less fresh,” Harry corrected, “but then, that was the problem, and yes.”

            Severus nodded, and Harry didn’t miss the way that his eyes flicked away from Harry enjoying his pie to the cage and back every few moments.

            He took his time, enjoying Severus’ distress and the cherry pie in equal measure. Finally, when he was finished, he stood from the table, casting a spell to send his dishes back to the kitchen, gathered up the wooden box and the cage and brought both over to his desk- clearing away a scattering of brass gears to make room.

            Severus loomed down from the portrait over the desk and watched with greedy curiosity as Harry pulled back the red cloth to reveal one fat, brown Norwegian rat. He opened the wooden box and pulled out the two vials stored securely inside.

            “You’re going to test the potion in the present to see if it works when all the ingredients are in their proper timeline,” Severus said. “That’s a fine idea, but if the time travel caused the tears to lose efficacy, then,”

            “It’s possible that the jump forward will have the same effect on the basilisk venom sample,” Harry said, cutting Severus off before he could finish. “Funnily enough, I thought of that on my own, which is why I sent these back through time the old fashioned way.”

            Severus frowned, “A temporal shifting field generator? Where did you-”

            “One day at a time, Severus,” Harry said, giving him a mocking grin. “I hid them in the Chamber of Secrets this morning.”

            “Oh,” Severus said. “You don’t do anything halfway.”

            “How so?” Harry asked.

            “It’s a bit overboard on the protections for a vial of potion and a venom sample- parselontonge password protected tunnel passage down to an ancient Chamber protected by a magical monster that will turn you to stone as soon as look at you.”

            Harry snorted. “It was the only place I could be sure that it wouldn’t be disturbed for thirty years.”

            “True. Of course, you realize that this means it’s been here the entire time. If it is effective, that means that there was a basilisk antivenin potion just sitting unused in the chamber while I lay dying in the shrieking shack.”

            Harry shuddered. “Great, now I have to deal with that.”

            “Hindsight is, as they say, 20/20.”

            “Let’s just see if it works or not. I’ll deal with the guilt of my lack of omniscience later.”

            Severus shrugged.

            Harry transfigured one of his quills into a pipette and used it to feed an appropriate dose of the antivenin to the rat. It licked its chops with a wet, slopping sound and looked up at Harry with its dark, glimmering eyes. “I’m feeling pretty confident about this,” Harry told the rat, I think you’ll be okay.” He grimaced as he transferred some of the venom under the skin behind the rat’s shoulder blades with his wand.

            The rat shivered and twitched. Then it let out a squeak and stiffened- lying dead in Harry’s hand.

            Harry set the rat gently onto the desktop and sighed.  He looked up at Severus and shook his head. “Why didn’t it work, Sev? What are we doing wrong?”

            “Possibly nothing,” Severus said. “This wasn’t really a controlled test. There were too many variables. Any number of things could have affected the potion or the venom sample: age, the initial time disparity of the phoenix tears, a number of storage and environmental conditions,” Severus trailed off, considering all the possibilities.

            Just then, the rat gave a jerk, and lifted its head, getting unsteadily to its feet.

            Harry jumped back in shock, glancing first at the rat, and then up at Severus.

 

July 1975

 

            “We did it!” Severus crowed. Jumping up into the air and pumping his fists.

            Harry smirked at him. He didn’t think he’d ever seen Severus quite so enthusiastic or triumphant about anything. He groaned and let out a gasp as Severus grabbed hold of him and squeezed him in a jubilant hug. It lasted only a second, and then he let go again and continued dancing around the room, but it left Harry’s heart pounding in his chest.

            He focused on the rat and cast a few diagnostic spells. Once again the rat’s heart had stopped for almost a full minute before the potion had taken effect and started to counteract the venom, repairing all of the rat’s organs and restarting its heart in the process. Harry smiled at it, and offered the rat a drink of water and a piece of biscuit. “I promise that’s the last time you have to do that,” he said, petting the little creature behind the year. “It’s nothing but the very lap of luxury for you from now on, my fine friend.”

            Finally, Severus managed to get his excitement under control, at least enough to stop jumping around the room, and he came to stand next to Harry and look down at the rat. “I can’t believe that we finally got it to work,” he said, voice low with wonder. “This is amazing.”

            Harry pulled him into another hug, holding him tight, and just allowing himself the barest brush of his cheek against Severus’ hair. He felt the wrench of pain in his heart at the contact and let go again, looking at the boy.

            He castigated himself for the slip, but the older that Severus got, the harder it was to separate the boy from the man that he would become. Harry gave him a good look over to assure himself, that yes, Severus was still a boy, a smiling boy, who looked almost handsome in his joy, but yes, _a boy_.

            And their potion was a success.

            Severus would grow up.

Hopefully, Harry had given him all the tools he would need to live through the war.

            There might be a possible future where there would be time for them, yet.

            In the meantime, Harry had a portrait. He would content himself with that.

            “What now?” Severus asked, looking up at him with bright, shining eyes. “Do we do more testing, or… what?”

            “Right now, Mister Snape, we celebrate.”

            Harry went to the cupboard and fetched two bottles of butterbeer. He cast a cooling charm on them, and the bottles frosted. He popped the caps and handed one to Severus. After he’d taken a long drink, he fished into his robes and brought out a little box, handing it to the boy.

            “What’s this?” Severus asked.

            “A victory present,” Harry said, “open it up.”

            Severus pulled the top off the box to reveal a tiny glass vial, framed on either side with tiny silver snakes, set with chips of emerald, on a fine chain.

            “It’s beautiful,” Severus said, pulling it out of the box and holding it to dangle from the chain, bright silver and gems reflecting the morning light.

            Harry took his pipette and decanted a dose of the potion into the vial and cast a preservation spell on it. He was glad to be confident of the spells longevity. It might turn out to be one of the most important spells that he ever cast.

            He took the necklace and slipped it over the boy’s neck. “Wear it always as a good luck charm. I know that you’re going to go on to be a great potions master, and this way you’ll always remember the first potion that you ever invented, and the crazy old man who did his best not to slow you down.”

            Severus grinned at him. “I don’t think I’ll ever need this to remember.”

            Harry shrugged. “Probably not, but wear it anyway. You never know when you might run into a basilisk.”

            Severus just laughed.

           

           

 


	11. Chapter Eleven

September 1975

            Harry stood beside Severus on platform 9 3/4 as the boy bent to tie his shoe.

            “Haven’t you invented a charm to keep them tied yet?” Harry asked as the boy returned to his feet.

            Severus flushed. “I did, but then I couldn’t untie them when I needed to take them off again. I’m still working on it.”

            Harry chuckled.

            The platform was loud, but the shriek of a familiar voice still carried over the din and sent a reflexive shiver up his spine.

            “I don’t see why you wanted _me_ to drop you off.”

            Harry looked over to see his mother and Aunt Petunia standing on the other side of the platform with Lily’s trunk. He had to strain his ears a bit to overhear their conversation.

            “Because you’re my sister, and I love you,” Lily said. “This is the last chance I’ll have to see you before Christmas.”

            “If you’d just go to a _normal_ school, we could see each other all the time.”

            “We’ve had this discussion a hundred times already. You know what I can do. I belong at Hogwarts.”

            “If you just tried, I’m sure you could pass for normal. You don’t have to be one of these _freaks_. You’ve said it yourself that you don’t fit in. The ones from freak families are mean to you.”

            “They’re just narrow-minded bigots,” Lily said. “It doesn’t matter where I go to school; I’ll still have to deal with people like that. It’s no worse than some of the things that you say to me, and I can’t say that I care for your new boyfriend very much.”

            “I don’t really care for yours either.”

            “Severus is _not_ my boyfriend.”

            Petunia sniffed.

            “He isn’t, he’s just…”

            Harry didn’t hear the rest of what Lily said, because Severus cleared his throat to regain his attention.

            “I’m ready to get on the train now, Mister Peverell.”

            The boy was blushing, Harry noticed. He’d obviously been eavesdropping on the two girls as well.

            “Don’t you want to wait for Lily,” Harry asked.

            “She’s with her sister. I’m sure she’ll catch up to me on the train.”

            “Do you want help with your trunk?”

            “No need.” Severus pulled his wand from his sleeve and cast a feather-light and shrinking charm on his trunk, placing it neatly into his pocket. “It feels so good to do that again.”

            Harry chuckled. “Long summer without magic?”

            “Just frustrating and inconvenient.”

            Harry tapped the potion vial around Severus’ neck. “I would have said successful.”

            Severus grinned back. “That too. It’s too bad I can’t tell Professor Slughorn about it.”

            “You promised that you wouldn’t,” Harry reminded him.

            “I’ll keep my word. It doesn’t mean I can’t want to tell someone.”

            “It really is an achievement, Severus. You should be proud. But, it certainly won’t be the last potion that you invent. Perhaps you should start thinking about what you’d like to attempt next. I’m sure that you can think of something that won’t need to remain a secret.”

            Severus nodded. He hesitated for a moment, and then pulled Harry into a tight hug. “I’ll see you for Christmas then.”

            Harry nodded. “I’ll pick you up at the platform like usual.”

            “Okay. Best of luck with your nephew. I hope that I can meet him some day.”

            “Don’t get into too much trouble,” Harry told him, knowing that fifth year would be nothing but trouble for Severus Snape.

 

oOoOoOo

            “What’s your point?” Harry let the paper fall back on to Dumbledore’s desk. **Lord Voldemort Rallies for a Return to Traditional Wizarding Values** flashed at him from the front page. He looked up at Albus. “Riddle is gaining support. We already knew that.”

            “He’s targeting my students for recruitment to his cause.”

            Harry nodded and sipped his tea. “We already knew that as well.”

            “It’s come to my attention that he’s made contact with Severus Snape.”

            Harry swallowed. “Yes.” He set his teacup down on the desk carefully. “Lucius Malfoy invited Severus to a dinner party at Malfoy Manor, and Riddle was in attendance. He approached Severus during the party. He has made no further contact since then, and Severus hasn’t accepted any other invitations- from either the Malfoys of any of Riddle’s other supporters.”

            “But there have been other attempts at contact?”

            Harry sighed. “There have. I’ve talked to Severus about it, and I think I have him convinced that it’s in his best interests to distance himself from Riddle and his supporters, but I’m sure that you’ve noticed that Riddle has focused most of his attention on his own house. Severus is under a lot of pressure from his housemates.”

            “Mulciber and Avery are being courted to Riddle’s camp as well, and they make no secret of their loyalties.”

            “Severus and Avery don’t really get on well.”

            “I know that you care for the boy’s interests,” Dumbledore said, “but I have to be frank with you. Severus Snape doesn’t really get on well with anyone save for Miss Evans and Regulus Black. I’m concerned that the other Slytherins may begin to make his friendship with Lily difficult, and Black has already made it quite clear that he agrees with his family’s views on blood purity. His brother, Sirius, is one of the Gryffindor boys in the same year as Severus.”

            “One of Potter’s cronies, you mean- the ones who bully Severus.” Harry couldn’t help the hint of anger that crept into his voice. James was his father, and he wasn’t a bad man. He had died trying to protect his family. Harry respected that. He supposed that he loved him in an abstract way- as the father he had never known. But, Harry could no longer be blind to his father’s short-comings. He’d seen too much of the bullying firsthand- both in Severus’ memories and in his brief observations of the boy on the Hogwarts Express platform.

            “Yes, one of the ones who bully Severus,” Dumbledore admitted.

            “Then it’s really no wonder that Severus and Regulus are becoming friends. Since none of your professors are doing anything to put a stop to it, Severus has to try to even the odds somehow.”

            “You know that it isn’t like that. We can’t be everywhere at once. Fighting is against the rules, and we put a stop to it whenever we can, but we can only give out detentions and take house points; we can’t force the students to get along.” Dumbledore sighed. “You know that I do my best to keep an eye on Severus, but he isn’t completely innocent in all of this either. He’s just as likely to pick a fight as they are.”

            “He has a talent for insults. That’s not the same as casting the first hex. Severus gets cornered, and he fights back any way that he can. However you try to justify it though, it’s still one socially awkward boy against four of the popular kids.”

“A socially awkward boy who is more powerful than any two of them combined,” Dumbledore put in. “And it isn’t always four against one. The Gryffindor boys aren’t together all the time, and Severus is a Slytherin; he knows when to play his advantage. He isn’t the victim that you make him out to be.”

“You can’t blame him for fighting back. They’re bullies, Albus. They do it for the attention, and because it makes them feel big and strong. Hopefully, they’ll look back on it with regret some day, but it doesn’t change the fact that they’re going to keep doing it unless someone gives them a good reason to stop. You know that with the current political climate, most of your teachers are starting to treat the Slytherins with suspicion and the Gryffindors with favoritism. Making a house full of resourceful, cunning, and ambitious witches and wizards from powerful families feel like underdogs and outcasts, is only going to drive them to Voldemort.”

“Perhaps you have a point, but I’m not sure what I can do about it. I know that Riddle has followers in my school. They are, of course, entitled to hold whatever political view that they want, but you and I both know that this is different. He’s setting himself up to be the next dark lord. There have been attacks on Muggleborns. If I don’t treat the Slytherins with suspicion, it puts other students at risk. Riddle has The Prophet and The Ministry of Magic in his pocket. I cannot afford to let him have Hogwarts as well.” Albus looked very intently at Harry then. “I need someone I can trust on the inside. It has to be someone that Riddle has already approached- someone that he wouldn’t suspect.”

Harry felt the bottom go out of his stomach. “No.”

“You have to understand how important this is. Severus is-”

            “I said, no, Albus. I’m not going to let you put him in danger. He’s a fifteen-year-old boy. He has enough problems of his own. I’m not going to let you add to them. He’s not going to be your spy.”

            Albus sighed. “Think about it at least. If we don’t gain some kind of advantage and put a stop to this soon, things are going to escalate very quickly. For all intents and purposes, we are at war. The problem is that no one on our side seems to realize it yet. Sacrifices will need to be made for the greater good.”

            Harry ground his teeth and had to restrain himself from throwing his teacup across the room. He set it back down on Dumbledore’s desk and got to his feet. “You’ve been spending too much time with Grindelwald.”

 

November 2005

            Now that they’d successfully completed the antivenin potion, Harry couldn’t help the mixed surge of hope and dread that overcame him every time he used the timeturner to return to his own timeline. The thought that he might return to find the Headmaster's office changed. The paintings gone from the walls- all of Severus’ food, and furniture, and frivolity. His own possessions, books, laundry, and trinkets replaced with someone else’s. Perhaps to find Severus installed behind the big, imposing headmaster’s desk, scowling, and questioning Harry’s presence, but oh so very _alive_.

            The crushing disappointment when he found everything just as he left it.

            The overwhelming relief when he saw the portraits ranged along the walls.

To see Severus lounging in his armchair with a book from the new library Harry had commissioned for him- looking up at him to raise one painted eyebrow.

 

Severus set his book aside and frowned at Harry, moving into the foreground of the painting he currently occupied to scrutinize Harry more closely. “What’s happened?”

Harry poured himself a glass of scotch and installed himself on the couch while he explained what Dumbledore had asked of him. When he had finished, Severus remained silent for a long time.

“He’s right, you know,” the other man said, finally.

Harry practically spat out the mouthful of scotch he was drinking. “What?”

“What are you doing here, Harry?”

“What do you mean?” Harry wiped his mouth with the back of his sleeve and set his tumbler down on the tea table.

“What exactly is your objective with all of this time travelling that you’ve invested so much time and effort into?”

“I’m trying to save your life, Severus,” Harry said, exasperated.

Severus nodded. “But, at what cost? We believe the Dark Lord’s defeat to be a fixed point in time, but we don’t know that for a fact. You are the one who defeated him, but my participation was instrumental in bringing you to that point. If you hadn’t defeated Voldemort, we assume that there are no circumstances under which your death would not be a direct result. Therefore, there are no circumstances under which you would be alive to change events. Ergo, you cannot negate your own existence- a handy paradox.”

“What’s your point?”

“I’m getting there.” Severus pinched the bridge of his nose. “Albus needs a spy in Voldemort’s ranks. If it isn’t me, it will be someone else. There is no way that events can unfold properly without my participation.”

“But you’re _fifteen_ , Severus. In the original timeline, you don’t start spying for Dumbledore until the second war.”

“In _this_ timeline, I take the dark mark at the age of _eighteen_ and only become a spy after killing my own father, committing unmentionable atrocities against innocent muggles, and seeing my best friend and her husband _murdered_.”

Harry swallowed back the bile rising in his throat.

“I thought that your whole plan was to save me from my fate while ensuring Voldemort’s downfall, and not changing what you recognize as the proper order of things- to preserve as much of the timeline as possible, so that you don’t end up in a world more ravaged by war than this one.”

“It is.”

“Then Dumbledore needs his spy.”

“Well, then he’ll just have to find someone else. I’m not allowing him to put you in harm’s way.”

“And, if I’m not there to exact the dark lord’s promise to spare your mother’s life? What then, Potter?”

That stopped Harry cold. He’d almost forgotten. Without his mother’s sacrifice, the blood magic that had protected him for so many years would be gone. What’s more, he would have to somehow engineer it so that Voldemort found out about the prophecy in the first place. He’d have to ensure that Severus gave him the information. Harry buried his head in his hands.

“You’re right,” he said in a strained whisper. “Damn you, but you’re right.”

oOoOoOo

 Kingsley took a sip from his pint and set it back down, giving Harry a pointed look from across their table at the back of The Leaky Cauldron. “Well, what is it? Tell me and I’ll see what I can do.”

            “What?”

            “If this was just business as usual, we’d be meeting in your office or mine. We’re meeting on neutral ground, which means that you have a favor to ask. I’d prefer to get to the point.”

            Harry drank from his own pint to buy a bit of time and bit his lip. “I’m planning a coup.”

            Kingsley raised one bushy eyebrow. “Oh?”

            “I need your support with the board of governors.”

            “My support for what?”

            “I want to bring non-magical children into the school.”

            “It may have escaped your notice, but it _is_ , Hogwarts School of _Witchcraft_ and _Wizardry_. Are you intending to change that? Should it be Hogwarts School of Magic and Muggles?”

            “Not exactly,” Harry explained. “I’d like to include some non-magical students from magical families though: squibs and the siblings of muggle-borns. They would have a different class schedule of course. There wouldn’t be any point in trying to teach them Transfiguration or Charms, but we could probably give them classes in Herbology, and possibly even Care of Magical Creatures on a limited basis. The squibs could benefit from Muggle Studies as well.

            “These are children who will have to exist in or in close proximity to the magical world. Don’t you think that some of them could benefit from the things we could teach them? I’ve seen too many families damaged from the magical divide.”

            “You’ll never get the board of governors to agree to this.”

            “I need seven votes. Hermione and Neville will vote in my favor. I can reasonably expect Madam Bones, Minerva, and Aberforth’s support as well. Slughorn, Malfoy, and Bianco will all be against. That leaves Professor Tripplehorn, Flitwick, and you. If I can convince at least one of you to vote in favor of the proposal, I’ll be able to go ahead.”

            Shaklebolt scowled. “This seems like a very Slytherin approach to getting what you want.”

            “Says the politician.”

            “I’m quite serious, Harry. I would have thought that this kind of scheming was beneath you.”

            Harry snorted. “Did you fight in the same war that I remember? For someone who thought so highly of Albus Dumbledore, you certainly don’t seem to hold his methods in very high esteem.”

            “Albus never-”

            Harry gave Kingsley a skeptical look and the other man cut off mid-sentence.

            “I’m not blackmailing you, Kingsley. I’m not even calling in a favor. I just want to know if I can count on a favorable vote or not, so I know how hard I have to try to convince the others.”

            Shaklebolt sighed. “I suppose you mean to bring this up for vote at the next meeting of the board of governors.”

            “If I know that I can win.”

            Kingsley took a long daft of his beer. “You’ll have to give me more time to think about it. I’m not sure that you understand the kind of ramifications that this could have. Things are tenuous at best with the older wizarding families- even the ones who didn’t have members supporting Voldemort. What you’re suggesting is a complete paradigm shift. There will be consequences.”

            “There always are.”

 

December, 1975

            Harry watched as the Hogwarts Express pulled to a stop along the platform with a screech of breaks and a cloud of steam, and the students began streaming out.

            He stood a little straighter and began to move forward when he caught sight of his mother’s red tresses, but the ebony-haired boy stepping off the train behind her wasn’t Severus. Instead, James Potter was close on her heels, followed by the rest of the marauders.

            Harry couldn’t hear what they were saying from this distance, but judging from their body language, James seemed to be showing off. Lily looked less than impressed, but she _was_ paying attention. As Harry watched, she followed James over to where Mr. and Mrs. Potter were waiting for their son. Harry looked around then, and noticed that none of the Evans’ seemed to be on the platform waiting to pick Lily up from the station.

            With some dread, Harry continued to look for Severus.

            Harry’s protégé was among the last of the students to exit the train, and it didn’t take long to understand why. Severus looked somewhat happier and more tousled than usual. His cheeks were flushed, and his normally thin lips looked plump and swollen. He was in the company of an equally disheveled looking boy with dark hair and an askew Slytherin tie. It only took Harry a second to recognize the familiar boy as Regulus Black.

            In the grand scheme of things, there were worse partners that Severus could have chosen. He knew that Regulus had ultimately been a noble and self-sacrificing force for the light, but it didn’t help to tamper the cold feeling of jealousy that tightened in his gut.

            Harry didn’t have long to mull it over though, because the two boys were already heading straight for him- holding hands. Harry did his best to school his expression.

            “Hey, Mr. Peverell,” Severus said, an almost bashful look on his face.

            “Hello, Severus,” Harry greeted. “Please, introduce me to your friend.”

            Severus’ flush deepened, and a shy smile graced his lips. “This is Regulus Black.”

            Harry held out his hand and Regulus shook it. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mister Black,” he said, and despite everything, he really meant it. Regulus had given his life fighting Voldemort, and even though this boy had not yet made any of the mistakes that would lead him to that ultimate redemption, he still deserved some respect. It was good to see him as he was now- young and with his innocence still intact.

            Even if he was still holding Severus’ hand in his left while he shook Harry’s right.

            Regulus turned his attention back to Severus and gave the other boy a smile. “I should probably get going. My parents are waiting. You’re going to stop by over break though, right?”

            Severus glanced quickly over at Harry and then back to Regulus. “I’ll try.”

            “Well, I hope you succeed,” Regulus said, with a cocky little grin that reminded Harry instantly of Sirius.

            Regulus raised himself up on tiptoe to press a chaste kiss to the corner of Severus’ mouth, and then he was gone- taking off at a run down the platform.

            Harry raised one bushy white eyebrow at Severus when the boy finally turned back to look at him. “It looks as though you’ve had an eventful first term.”

            Severus flushed bright red and examined the toes of his shoes.

oOoOoOo

 

            When they returned to the cottage, Severus made tea and Harry sat at the table watching him- a million questions whirling through his mind, trying his best to piece together the timeline of what had happened over the last term at Hogwarts from what he’d glimpsed of Severus’ memories and the conversations he’d had with his portrait over the last few years.

            “So,” Harry said when they were both sat at the table with steaming cups before them, “Regulus Black?”

            “Regulus Black,” Severus confirmed, a steely look of determination in his eye as he met Harry’s gaze.

            “How long has that been going on then?”

            Severus sipped at his tea, and Harry knew him well enough to know how hard he had to work to maintain his feigned air of nonchalance as he replied, “About a month.”

            “He’s a year below you, isn’t he?”

            Severus nodded.

            “And isn’t his brother one of the boys who have been giving you a hard time?”

            “He is, but that isn’t Reg’s fault.”

            “No,” Harry said. “I suppose it isn’t.”

            “He’s quite clever. We started spending time together toward the end of last year, and,” Severus shrugged, “I guess we just decided we’d like to spend a bit more.”

            “I take it that this means you’ve sorted out your feelings for Lily.”

            Severus was visibly fighting the flush that was rising to his cheeks again. “Lily and I aren’t really speaking at the moment.”

            “Does Regulus have anything to do with that?”

            Severus shrugged. “Not in the way you’re thinking.” He sipped at his tea. “I don’t think that she’s jealous or anything. I don’t think that she ever really liked me like _that_ anyway. It’s just that Reg comes from an old pureblood family, and well, Lil’s a mud… a muggleborn. They don’t really get on, and Lily’s a bit miffed at me right now. I’m sure she’ll get over it.”

            Harry made a noncommittal noise. “You and Lily have been friends for a long time. Do you think that it’s really worth losing her friendship over someone who has such hateful ideals?”

            “Reg’s never been anything but nice to her!” Severus defended. “I don’t know why she has such a problem with it. He’s entitled to his own views. That doesn’t have anything to do with how I feel.”

            “And how _do_ you feel Severus? Mudblood isn’t a very nice word.” Severus did flush then. “Did you think I missed the slip?”

            “It’s just what everyone else calls them. I didn’t mean anything by it. You know I think the world of Lily. She’s brilliant, no matter whom her parents are.”

            Harry picked up his cup then. “I’m glad to hear you say that. With the way things are going at the Ministry, Lily might have a very hard road ahead of her. She’s going to need good friends who are willing to stand up for her.”

            Severus nodded, scratching the back of his neck.

            “In any case, I am pleased for you. Regulus seems as though he makes you very happy.”

            “He does. And you’re right about the stuff with Lily. I guess I’ve been a little distracted lately. I’ll try to make things up with her. I’m sure I can make her understand.”

            “I hope that you do.”

            Severus gave a little chuckle. “Here I thought you’d be giving me the third degree for coming out as homosexual, and we’re talking about girls.”

            “I’ll have you under my roof for the next two weeks, minus whatever time you decide to spend off cavorting with Mister Black, we’ll have plenty of time to talk about boys,” he said, ending in the conspiratorial whisper of a teenage girl.

            Severus grimaced, and Harry suddenly remembered that he was a hundred years old, and may have just come off as a bit creepy.

 

December, 2005

            “So, Regulus Black?” Harry said, staring down his portrait.

            Severus’ laughter wasn’t exactly the reaction he’d been hoping for.

            “What, jealous, Potter?”

            “Yes,” Harry grumbled, “is that so hard to believe?”

            “It’s a bit perverted, considering I was barely sixteen at the time.”

            Harry scowled at him, and poured himself a drink. He sprawled out on the sofa and looked appraisingly up at Severus. “Did you sleep with him?”

            “No,” Severus answered, “I never had that pleasure. I broke it off in an effort to get Lily to forgive me for calling her a mudblood. Which, as you know, turned out to be a wasted effort.”

            “When did that happen, again?”

            “The end of term, right after exams.”

            “Of course.” Harry had a flash of memory- Severus scribbling madly away at his Defense Against The Dark Arts exam. How had he forgotten that? All of this time travel was really starting to scramble his brain. “How did you score on your OWLs? I hope Regulus isn’t too much of a distraction. I could give you the whole, ‘you should concentrate on your studies,’ speech.”

            “I excelled as always. Though, you can’t possibly expect me to believe that you’ve never looked at my student record.”

            Harry sat up straighter and broke into a grin. “I’ve never even thought of that.”

            Severus raised his eyebrows. “In that case, I’m disappointed in you, Potter. Reading the academic and disciplinary records of your former professors is one of the biggest perquisites of this job. I might direct you to the files on your former head of house. I found them to be quite enlightening.”

            Harry snorted. “McGonagall used to get in trouble?”

            “Based off her student record, I would say that having the Weasley twins sorted into Gryffindor was clear evidence of Karma at work.”

 

January, 1976

 

            “How long do you think your brother is going to be gone? We should sneak into his room and look for clues.”

            “Yes, I’m certain that he keeps an itinerary of all his planned pranks and rule-breaking for the year,” Regulus said dryly. He shifted on the bed, jostling Severus.

            They had been encamped in Regulus’ bedroom at Grimmauld place for most of the afternoon, not up to much of anything. Regulus was currently sprawled out on the bed reading a Quidditch magazine with Severus’ head in his lap- absently running his fingers through the other boy’s long hair.

            “We can’t know what we’ll find unless we look.”

            “I don’t really fancy the idea of trying to get past his wards. The last time that I tried, I ended up with boils all over my face.”

            “This might be our only chance to look around, and I need to figure out what they’re up to. Lupin’s always gone, but the rest of them have been sneaking out of the castle all year. Don’t you want to know what they’re doing?”

            Regulus shrugged. “Who cares? We snuck out of the castle last week, in the middle of a blizzard, because you wanted to try out that snow feet charm you invented.”

            “Snow _shoes_ ,” Severus corrected, “and it was your fault that we almost died of hypothermia.”

            “You were the one bragging about how good your warming charms are. It’s not my fault if they failed after twenty minutes.”

            “Going skinny dipping in an ice hole that you blasted in the lake in the middle of December isn’t the same as taking a winter stroll. You can’t expect a warming charm to last the full hour under that kind of thermal conductive strain.”

            “It would have been fine if Hagrid hadn’t come along and seen our clothes on the bank.”

            Severus shivered. “Don’t remind me.”

            They both shuddered and fell silent. Regulus was about to see if he couldn’t distract Severus from his obsession with Sirius and his stupid friends’ illicit activities with another round of snogging, when he started in again.

            “It has to have something to do with that whomping willow that Sprout planted first year. I overheard them talking about it in the library a few weeks ago when they were planning to sneak out, and they hushed up pretty fast when they caught me listening.”

            “Unless whomping willow has some psychotropic properties that I don’t know about, I can’t see Sirius taking an interest in Herbology. Are you sure that they weren’t studying for a test.”

            “I’m sure.”

            “Well, maybe they’re just playing that stupid game all of the first years try at the start of term. You know, where they dare each other to dodge the branches and touch the trunk.”

            Severus smirked. “That’s always entertaining to watch- until some Hufflepuff ends up in the Hospital Wing, and the teachers make the prefects start docking points.”

            “Did you see Shaklebolt last year?” Regulus asked, and Severus shook his head. “I almost thought he was going to make it, but then that big branch with the knob on the end whipped out and flung him all the way into the forbidden forest! He landed face first into a patch of brambles. It looked like he went a few rounds with Filch’s cat.”

            They both started laughing at the image, and before Severus could start in again, Regulus had him sufficiently distracted from all thoughts of the marauders.

 

December, 2005

            Harry remained silent through most of the Hogwarts Board of Governors meeting, only speaking up when it was time to vote on something. Yes, to new cauldrons for the NEWT potions lab. No, to putting tracking charms on the students. Yes, to the new charms appointment. No, to computers for the muggle studies class- not because the students wouldn’t benefit, or because the money wasn’t in the budget, but simply because Arthur would have them in pieces before the end of the first week.

            It was Hermione’s turn to chair the meeting this month, and she moved through the agenda with the same ruthless efficiency that Harry had so hated when they’d been students. Still, the surest way to accomplish anything well and within a set time frame was to hand Hermione a list and stay out of her way. Even so, Harry was anxious to get to the last item on the agenda for the month, and the meeting seemed to be taking forever.

            Finally, Hermione drew a line through the latest order of business and came to the very last item on the agenda. She looked up from the parchment and gave Harry an encouraging smile. “The last item up for discussion is Headmaster Potter’s proposal to accept non-magical students from magical families into Hogwarts.”

            Before Harry could even speak, the other school governors were already muttering amongst themselves.

            Harry let them grumble as he sorted through the pile of parchment before him and pulled out a piece of neatly folded letter-stock, yellowed with age. He pointed his wand at it and murmured a spell, then repeated the process with a pile of blank parchment, replicating the looping cursive onto the blank pages. With another wave of his wand, he sent the parchment fluttering across the table, so that one page landed neatly in front of each person seated there.

            “You’re looking at a letter that Albus Dumbledore received from a twelve-year-old, muggle girl named Petunia Evans in 1971.”

            Harry gave them a moment to read the letter. It had taken him nearly four hours to find it- tucked in the bottom of a magical filing cabinet in a magically expanded closet in his office. He’d felt quite sure that Albus would have kept the letter, but he hadn’t had the foggiest idea where Dumbledore would have filed it, or if it had been with the man’s personal possessions. He’d tried half a dozen locating spells, but his records room was an inherited mess of layered filing systems, and there had been no way of knowing if he was even looking in the right place. He’d nearly given up and decided to just go back to ’76 and ask Albus- trying to think of some reasonable excuse for such an inquiry, when he’d lucked onto the right cabinet.

            “This is all very sad,” Slughorn said, setting his copy of the letter back on the desk, “but I would remind you that Hogwarts is a school of magic. What possible purpose could it serve, letting non-magical children into the school?”

            “I’m getting to that,” Harry said, raising a hand. “I’m sure that you’ve all made the connection between Petunia Evans and the “Lily” mentioned in the letter. Petunia is, of course, my aunt. The one who raised me after the death of my parents, as a matter of fact.”

            Harry glanced over at McGonagall to see what her reaction to all of this was, but she was still looking down at the letter, frowning as she read through it for the second time.

            “Headmaster Dumbledore’s response to Petunia’s desperate plea to be allowed to attend Hogwarts alongside her sister was, of course, a regretful refusal. Petunia had no magical talent, and so, she had no place here at Hogwarts. The two had been quite close as young girls, but the divide of the magical and muggle worlds led to resentment, envy, and eventually hatred. By the time my mother graduated, the two sisters were no longer speaking to one another. The last time that Petunia had any word from her sister was an announcement of my birth in 1980. A little over a year later, she found a baby in a basket on her doorstep with another letter from Albus Dumbledore. This time, explaining that Lily and James Potter had been killed, and she must raise her newly orphaned nephew- who at that time, she had never even seen before. Unfortunately, Petunia never had a chance to make amends with her sister, and I had to grow up in a house that hated all things magical.” Harry left out the ‘ _including me’_ that wanted to add itself to the end of that speech.

            “I can’t help but think how things might have been different if Albus had found a place for Petunia Evans at Hogwarts.”

            “You clearly have a personal interest here, Headmaster, and I do see your point, but if we did begin to accept non-magical students, what would you mean to teach them? Obviously, they wouldn’t be able to learn magic.”

            “True,” Harry agreed, “Though there may be a few subjects that they could join the magical students in, the majority of their curriculum would need to be similar to that of any muggle school. They would still need to be able to pass their A-levels (the muggle equivalent of NEWTs) at the end of their schooling. Keep in mind also that we’re not just talking about muggle children, but also squibs. These are children who will have to grow up in and at least have some consistent contact with the magical world, even if they choose to live among muggles. They would benefit a good deal if we can teach them ways of doing that.”

            “There are already schools for squibs,” McGonagall put in.

            “There are,” Harry allowed. “Argus Filch attended one of them, and yet he makes his home here. He’s become as much of a fixture of Hogwarts as the gargoyles on the front gate.” There were a few chuckles at this. “I asked him once how he ended up at Hogwarts, and he told me that it had always been his dream to come here. He’s done his part to care for the safety and well-being of generations of Hogwarts students, even though he could never be one himself. Not that many of them have appreciated his efforts.” Another chuckle. “Most of you know Arabella Figg. She’s a squib who lives in the muggle world, but she was a very instrumental member of the Order of the Phoenix- though you won’t find her name in any of the hundreds of books written about the war.

            “Every child who dreams of this castle, who grows up seeing their siblings come home with stories of broomsticks and ghosts and magic, deserves to find a place at Hogwarts.”

            “I’m sure that your heart is in the right place, Harry,” Minerva said, “but I just don’t think that this course of action is in the best interest of the students that you would theoretically be bringing into the school. You know better than anyone that Hogwarts can be a dangerous place. There are always students hexing each other in the halls, explosions going off in the potions classrooms, or accidents with magical creatures- mountain trolls smashing up the girls’ lavatories. How can you possibly expect children with no magical talent to be able to handle all of that?”

            Harry sighed. He needed at least seven votes to pass his proposal, and he had been so sure that Minerva would be on his side. “You’re right. Hogwarts can be dangerous. The magical world in general can be dangerous. Those without magic are in the most need of training on how to handle those types of situations. If my proposal is accepted, I would suggest that we take on new professors who are used to living within the wizarding world without magic and know how to use what they do have at their disposal to make the best of it. Squibs and muggles can use magical objects. With proper training, and a bit of ingenuity, they may be able to find ways to work with what they can do to find a way to co-exist with and contribute to magical society. Instead of being swept under the rug like some dirty secret, squibs can grow up with their peers in the magical world they were raised in, and find jobs that fit their skill set. Muggle siblings of magical children might be able to do the same, if they want it, so that families no longer need to be broken up just because one child may be magical and the other is not.”

            “And how would we sort them,” Slughorn asked. “Do you expect the sorting hat to start putting squibs into Slytherin? Muggles into Ravenclaw?”

            Harry shrugged. “Maybe. Or we could give them their own house, if that would work better.”

            “Might as well change the school crest as well,” Slughorn sneered. “They can compete in the house cup. Might as well give them their own Quidditch team.”

            “I don’t see why not,” Harry said.

            Hermione cleared her throat, before Slughorn could begin another tirade. “Headmaster Potter has explained his proposal. It’s obvious that there will be a lot of logistical issues to work out if he is given approval. I suggest that we take a vote now, and if the Headmaster receives enough votes in his favor, we can form a committee to work out a provisional curriculum and address issues of safety and housing. Does that suit everyone?”

            There were noises of assent, and Harry waited anxiously as Hermione read off the list of governors and tallied votes.

            “Headmaster Potter?”

            “In favor, obviously,” Harry muttered.

            “Deputy Longbottom?”

            “In favor.”

            “Minister Shaklebolt?”

            “In favor.”

            “Minerva McGonagall?”

            “Opposed. I’m sorry Harry, but I just don’t feel it’s in the best interest of the students.”

            “Madam Bones?”

            “In favor.”

            “Filius Flitwick?”

            “Opposed.”

            “Horus Slughorn?”

            “Opposed.”

            “Aberforth Dumbledore?”

            “I think it’s a damned fine idea,” he responded.

            “Thank you,” Hermione said, somewhat tersely as she marked down his vote. “Professor Tripplehorn?”

            “Opposed.”

            “Professor Bianco?”

            “Opposed.”

            “Professor Weasley,” she marked down on the parchment as she read out her own name, “that’s a vote in favor from me. Which just leaves, Professor Malfoy.” She looked up at him. “It seems that you have the deciding vote, Draco.”

            Harry’s heart fell. As soon as McGonagall had voted no, he figured it was a long shot, but he thought that there was at least a chance one of the others might vote in favor, but not Malfoy. Still, a tie vote at least meant that he could bring his proposal to vote again, after a year had passed. Perhaps by then he might be able to convince Minerva or one of the others.

            “In favor,” Malfoy’s bored drawl cut into Harry’s thoughts, and he jerked his head up to stare at the Head of Slytherin.

            “The proposal is passed,” Hermione announced, shuffling together her papers. “Harry, you’ll be responsible for forming your committee and submitting a detailed proposal before next month’s meeting. Until then, we’re adjourned.”

            Harry was still in a bit of a daze as everyone gathered their things and began heading their separate ways. Then, he had to rush to grab all his papers and catch up to Draco in the hallway outside as the other man made his way for the stairs leading down to his rooms in the dungeons.

            “Malfoy!”

            Draco turned and waited for Harry to catch up to him, before continuing down the steps at a sedate pace. “I’m not going to be on your committee, Potter.”

            “What? No, I wasn’t going to ask, I just,” Harry stalled a moment, “I wanted to know why you voted in my favor.”

            Draco stopped then. “Does it matter?”

            “I guess not. I just wouldn’t have expected it from you.”

            “It’s a good idea,” Malfoy said, “but you’d better find a way to make it work, if you want my approval on your plan for implementation. I would suggest putting McGonagall on your committee if you really want this to work.” He began walking again, leaving Harry behind him. “Good luck, Headmaster.”

            “Good night, Malfoy, and thank you.”

oOoOoOo

           

“Was your proposal successful?” Severus asked, when Harry had made his slow way back to his office.

            “It was approved,” Harry said, “whether it will be successful is still anyone’s guess. Surprisingly, Malfoy was the deciding vote.”

            “That’s not so surprising.”

            “Isn’t it?”

            “You know how important family is to Purebloods.”

            “Aren’t they a bit keener on magical ability?”

            “Quite keen,” Severus agreed, “they also value propagation of the old bloodlines, and yet, so far as anyone knows, the Malfoys only had one child. Doesn’t that strike you as strange?”

            Harry frowned. “Are you saying that Draco has a squib sibling locked away somewhere?”

            “ _Locked away_ might be a bit harsh. He does however, have a sister who was sent to a special school somewhere in the Americas. Luckily for her, she was born after the first war, and the dark lord had enough to worry about during his second rise to power that he didn’t think to wonder why the Malfoys weren’t as prolific as some of his other ‘loyal followers.’”

            “Draco has a sister?”

            “Oh indeed, trace any wizarding family in Britain back a few generations and you’ll find one or two ‘black sheep’ that they’d rather the public at large never find out about- The Malfoys more so.”

            “Well, that’s all the more reason to make a change then,” Harry said.

            “Don’t sound so sanctimonious,” Severus said. “It’s obvious that you’re doing this for your niece.”

            “Just because I have personal reasons, doesn’t make it a bad idea.”

            “No,” Severus agreed. “I imagine that your cousin will be relieved.”

            “I haven’t even mentioned any of this to Dudley yet. There’s a chance that he might not even be on board.”

            “He might resent not being given the same chance when he was a child, which isn’t even taking Petunia into consideration.”

            Harry sighed. “There’s still time for Lucy to manifest her own magical ability. There is a possibility that it won’t be an issue. If she doesn’t, then at least Dudley will have the option of keeping the children together. They’re so close, and I’d hate to see what happened to mum and Aunt Petunia come between them. Ultimately, it will be Dudley’s choice though. Beyond that, hopefully, there will be others who benefit.”

            “Your savior complex is showing, Potter.”

            Harry snorted. “It’s been that kind of day.” He pulled out his time turner. “And now that I’ve caused a fundamental paradigm shift in the wizarding world with long-term ramifications, I get to handle a real challenge.”

            “Werewolf?” Severus asked.

            “Werewolf,” Harry confirmed.

            And then, he was gone, and Severus was left to count the one hundred and fifty-seven seconds until his return.

 

February, 1976

            “What are you doing skulking over there, Snivellus?”

            Severus, who had in fact been hiding in a darkened alcove off the entrance hall waiting for Black and the rest of his gang so that he could follow them and find out what they were up to, froze for a moment at having been caught out, and then stepped forward out of the shadows.

            “What do you care, Black?” he sneered, pulling his wand slowly from his sleeve.  

            “I don’t give a troll’s toss what you’re up to. I’m just surprised that you aren’t down in the dungeons buggering my brother.”

            Severus flushed, and Sirius, sensing that he’d struck a nerve, took advantage of the opening.

            “No, I take that back, if I was forced to guess I’d say that you’re the one who takes it up the bum.”

            “That’s a bit rich coming from you. Seeing as everyone at Hogwarts knows the things you and your pet prefect get up to. I’d always wondered why you kept that one around. He’s a bit too bookish to really be hanging around with you and Potter, but if half the rumors I hear are true, you’ve found quite the interesting use for that pretty little mouth of his.”

            Severus had actually heard no such rumors, but that was really beside the point. He could tell that he was getting under Black’s skin.

            “That’s quite the degenerate imagination you have, Snivellus. Though, I’m not surprised. I’m not bothered by it though; you and my brother can keep filling each other’s holes all you like. It keeps him out of the way, and it frees up Evans for Jamey boy. You know what a hopeless romantic he is for your little ginger, muggle-born friend. You should hear the things he says about her in his sleep. It would be enough to give even a nancy like you a hard-on.”

            Severus gripped his wand tighter.

            “You see, Black, this is why you’ve always been my favorite of Potter’s little Gryffindor gang. The others just don’t have your talent for insults. Potter would have pulled his wand on me before I’d even had a chance to speak. That’s not your style though, is it, Black. You’d rather stand around all day bandying words. It’s almost _Slytherin_ , really. In truth, I’d always wondered how you’d made it into Gryffindor. You lack the requisite backbone for a house that prides itself on courage. It’s too bad really; if you’d been the proper Slytherin scion that your parents wanted, maybe they wouldn’t have disowned you- maybe you would have a home to go back to this summer.”

            Sirius did draw his wand then, but rather than cast the curse that Severus was bracing himself to counter, he just grinned.

            “If you want to play like a Slytherin, I can play like a Slytherin. You think that I don’t know that you were hiding down here to spy on us? You’ve been trying to discover what we’ve been up to all year. You still don’t know though, do you? Well, why don’t you have a look for yourself? There’s a knot on the trunk of the whomping willow. Depress it, and the tree will freeze. There’s a secret passageway hidden within the roots. Follow it to the end, and you’ll find all the answers you’re looking for”

oOoOoOo

           

            Harry stood in the shelter of the castle, beneath his invisibility cloak, and watched as Severus slipped through the whomping willow’s roots into the hidden passageway beneath. When the boy was out of sight, he hurried up the castle steps and through the entrance hall- where Sirius stood with a smug expression on his face.

            Harry hardly spared the boy a glance, as he swept past on his way up to the headmaster’s office. A minute later, he passed two sets of disembodied feet on the stairs- Pettigrew and his father on their way to rendezvous with Sirius. These too, he ignored.

            He pulled the cloak off before he reached the stone gargoyle outside the headmaster’s office and stashed it out of sight in his satchel. He had no intention of explaining its existence to Dumbledore. He didn’t want to give away any more than he absolutely needed to tonight.

            Albus was in his office when Harry rode the spiral staircase to the top.

            He looked up and grinned. “Peverell, I wasn’t expecting you. You’re lucky that you caught me in. I’ve only just returned from the ministry. Tea?”

            “I’m afraid, we have very little time,” Harry said, “and much to discuss.”

oOoOoOo

 

            The passage beneath the whomping willow went on for miles, and Severus had to stoop to fit his height within its narrow confines. He’d been berating himself for the last ten minutes for falling for this wild goose chase. There was no way that Sirius was telling the truth. He had no reason to give away what the Gryffindors had been up to.

            This tunnel was probably a dead-end. And, once Severus inevitably discovered that and made his return, the Gryffindors would be waiting to ambush him. They were probably having a good laugh at his expense right now.

            And, yet, the whomping willow had been covering the entrance to the tunnel, and why bother protecting a dead end? There must be something at the end of this tunnel worth hiding.

            “Snape!”

            Severus paused and looked back the way he had come. There was a wandglow in the distance.

            “Snape!” The call came again, and Severus was sure it was Potter’s voice. “Stop!”

            Severus smirked. Maybe Black hadn’t been telling the truth, but there was obviously something at the end of this tunnel that Potter didn’t want him to find. He ignored the shouts and continued off down the tunnel at a stooped run.

            Soon, the passage began to open up, and Severus was able to run at nearly full speed, shining his wand before him like a torch, and only faltering his step to avoid stumbling over rocks. Potter still yelled behind him, increasingly out of breath, but Severus could no longer make out the words.

            The tunnel was definitely moving upward now, and Severus had to struggle to keep up his pace as the incline increased. He was definitely nearing the end, but Potter was steadily gaining on him.

            He could see light now. There was a thin, glowing line cutting horizontally across the tunnel- the light cast into the darkness beneath the door of a lit room. Severus slowed his pace as he approached the door. He could hear faint scuffling noises and growling beyond the door, and Potter’s steady footfalls closing in on him from behind- though the Gryffindor had given up yelling.

            With no time to waste on subtlety, Severus threw the door open.

oOoOoOo

           

            “May I ask what has changed your mind?” Dumbledore asked, sipping at the glass of brandy he’d conjured for himself.  Harry still hadn’t touched his.

            “I have my own reasons for opposing Voldemort. At this point, I believe that war is inevitable, and I would protect Severus from that as much as I can, but having a spy within Riddle’s camp may...” Harry grimaced, “prevent other casualties.”

            Harry knew what he was doing. He was trading the lives of his parents, any potentially normal childhood he might have, for the certainty of Voldemort’s downfall. And, it wasn’t just his parents either. It was Sirius, and Remus, and Tonks. It was Fred. It was Colin Creevy. It was Cedric Diggory. It was the Longbottoms’ sanity. It was so many broken families. So much death and destruction. It was the life of the man sitting before him. It was the certainty of all these things gambled against the uncertainty of how much worse it could be.

 It was the thrice damned _greater good_.

But, maybe, just maybe, it didn’t have to be Severus too. Maybe, if he played all of his cards just right, if he planned for every contingency, it would be enough to sail the man he loved safely through the storm.

Please, Merlin, let it be enough.

Harry glanced at his pocket watch for what felt like the hundredth time since his arrival. “I’m nearly out of time.”

“That’s a bit ironic,” Albus said- eyes twinkling with amusement.

Harry smiled, grimly. “Eventually, the clock runs out on everything. You’ll have your spy. Just be careful with how you use him, and remember your promise.”

“You needn’t keep reminding me to know that I’ll keep it. Your secrets are safe with me, and when the time comes, I will do as you ask.”

Harry nodded.            “I should be going now. They could be here any minute.”

            “I’d figured most of it out years ago, you know,” Dumbledore said, looking down into the amber liquid in his glass. “I realized my error in logic when you insisted that we visit Gellert, and then I couldn’t understand how I hadn’t seen it before. I hope someday you’ll tell me the rest.”

            “I imagine that with time, you’ll be able to figure out most of it for yourself.”


End file.
